


Sing you a lullaby

by sam_midwinter



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Amputee Bucky Barnes, Anxiety, Awkward Flirting, Bad Flirting, Bearded Steve Rogers, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Bold Steve Rogers, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes Has Panic Attacks, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Concerned Friends, Depression, Eventual Smut, Flirting, Gay Bucky Barnes, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Lots of Angst, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Musician Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve Rogers, Slow Burn, Steve Rogers Helps, Top Steve Rogers, Will add more when I know which direction it goes, Will earn its rating, one armed bucky, phantom limb syndrome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-06-23 23:20:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 98,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15617232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sam_midwinter/pseuds/sam_midwinter
Summary: It has been nearly a since the accident and Bucky Barnes still finds himself in a slump he can't seem to get out of. Being unable to chase his passion for playing music anymore has beaten him down in more ways than one. So in an attempt to cheer him up his friends drag him out one evening. And that evening he meets Steve Rogers, looking to settle back into a new life.





	1. Chapter 1

Clint was as always, an absolute and utter pain in the ass, Bucky thought. He glared at his so called friend through squinted eyes, who had deemed it necessary to flip the light switch on and illuminate the den that was Bucky’s living room. Natasha went over to open the curtains, there came a ray of red light over her as the sign of the Chinese restaurant across the street had opened. 

“Fuck off.” Bucky muttered to the pair of them and attempted to roll around in his couch, pulling the blanket back over his head. Clint wouldn’t have it, grabbed it and gave it a solid tug. Bucky’s grip wasn’t strong enough and the heat flew off him. He whined again. 

“It’s just one evening, stop being so dramatic.” Clint grabbed the remote on the living room table and turned off the TV. “You haven’t been out in ages, if we put Dracula right next to you he’d be as black as Morgan Freeman.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?!” Bucky snarled to Clint, rolling onto his back again and watched how Clint waltzed off with the blanket into Bucky’s bedroom. In order for the heat to return, he would have to get up, and if he stood up then he’d wander straight into their trap. 

“He’s saying.” Natasha began cleaning up the living room table from a variety of glasses, an empty soda bottle and some Chinese Take Out from the very same restaurant that had illuminated her. “That you could do with some vitamin D.” 

“It’s half past nine, in the evening, where the hell am I going to get some vitamin D now?” Bucky argued back, pulling his feet underneath himself, he should have worn socks. Clint reappeared, without a blanket in his hand and spread his arms as if he was dealing with an exasperating child. 

“Just come out with us Buck.” Clint threw himself down on the couch besides Bucky. “One evening, that’s all, just a couple of beers, Natasha can scare off some stupid college kids, I can kick your asses at a game of darts. We’ll be back again before you know it, it’ll do you  
good.” He leaned his head into his balled fist, pouting with his lips a little bit. “I love you?”

“Yeah well.” Bucky grabbed one of the pillows he had been using earlier and shoved it in Clint’s face. “I don’t. I just want to watch… whatever was on and go to bed.” He scratched his shoulder. 

“We’re not leaving until you leave with us, you just might as well accept it and go have a shower.” Natasha reappeared, cleared off the empty bag of chips from the table and the two beer bottles. “Jesus don’t you clean?”

“When I feel like it.” Bucky grabbed the pillow that he had shoved in clints face and pressed it against his stomach. He leaned his head back and shut his eyes. He loved his friends, he truly did. But he didn’t need them acting like this, he didn’t need them taking advantage of Clint’s key that he really should have given back when he had moved out like that. 

“Come on. Scott doesn’t have Cassie this weekend, he’ll be real disappointed to hear that you’re bailing out on him like this. And we’ve got Kate coming. It’ll be fun, all the old crew like that. You haven’t joined us in ages. Have a couple of beers, some shots, we can get drunk together and sob later on and Natasha can take us home like the good old days.” Clint nudged Bucky in his side, he didn’t show any protest this time, just stared at the black television screen. “Or we can go clubbing after, you used to love that, right Nat?”

She didn’t respond, just came back into the living room and sat down in the one and only armchair in the room. “There’s this new club down where Lotus used to be, what’s it called?” Clint looked to Natasha for help, Bucky rubbed his eyes which were still burning in the light. That or exhaustion, he wasn’t sure. 

“Eden. Such a corny name.” Natasha mused more to herself than to Clint as a response. 

“Eden! That’s the name. We can go to there, give Tilda a call before we go, see if she’s got any Psychedelics before we go in. Dance our assess of until we believe we’re on Jupiter or something like that. Huh?” Clint was grinning widely and gave Bucky a nudge by his shoulder. 

“You’re a married man Clint, and you’re talking to me about getting high and going clubbing.” Bucky reminded him, Natasha smirked a little bit. Clint just shrugged in response. 

“So? There are no secrets with Laura and me. She knows we used to do that, and she wouldn’t be overly disappointed in me for doing it if it actually got you out of the house.” 

Bucky sighed, loudly for dramatics and shut his eyes again. He sank down lower in the couch again, pressing his nose into his pillow. “Okay, so no clubbing, but just a pub then. With Kate and Scott, a few beers, some games of dart. Back before bedtime. What do you say huh?” Clint tried again on a softer voice and pulled off Bucky’s hoodie. “Come on man we miss hanging out with you.” 

“That’s a guilt trip if I’ve ever heard one.” Bucky muttered against the pillow. 

“So cave, come on.” Natasha stood up from her armchair, wandered over and gripped Bucky’s arm, giving it a tug to imply he had to get up on his feet. “Go have a shower, I’ll put out some clothes for you. And we’re going to go out tonight. And we’re going to have a good time you hear me?” 

Bucky looked up to Natasha, donned up for the evening and found that he didn’t have the heart to say no. Or maybe it was just his lack of energy to argue, maybe both, he wasn’t entirely sure which one was the strongest factor. He sighed and stood up, letting Natasha pull him into a hug. 

They stood like that for a short minute, and then she broke their hug and patted him on his cheek. “Just one beer, then I want to go back home.” Bucky warned her. 

“One beer. Then we will take you home.” Natasha promised him. “Now go have that shower, you need to wash your hair.” She told him. Bucky didn’t argue, he slipped past her and went into the bathroom, locking the door shut behind himself. Natasha like promised, went out to his bedroom and laid out some clothes for him. 

So Bucky took his time as he showered, mostly to annoy Natasha and Clint in waiting for him, but also partially because it was more hassle than it was worth at times. Thought he couldn’t deny, the feel of warm water against his skin. And by the time that he stepped out it felt as if he had stripped himself raw. The idea was rather disgusting, and Bucky realised that it had been a good four days since he had showered, which made the hug that Natasha had given him all the more meaningful. 

Bucky towelled his hair dry as well as he could, before giving up and using the hair dryer. It made his hair seem more like a lion mane however, and he decided after a quick look in the mirror that Natasha would have to help him put it up properly. He brushed his teeth, used deodorant, and by the time he was finished he did feel like a new man. Sort of. 

He stroked his fingers over his left shoulder and tilted his head a little bit to the side. The light touch tickled him, and he imagined a chill going down an arm that was no longer there. It sent a chill down his spine instead. They could sit in a booth and he could sit all the way in the corner, that way no one had to see. 

Pulling his head out of his ass, as Clint would say, Bucky pulled himself out of the snowball of a thought before it went rolling down the mountain. He put the towel back around his waist and held it. One year in and he still hadn’t figured out how to tie the towel around his waist with one hand. He was however, able of pushing down the door handle with his elbow and walked back out into the living room. 

Clint was laying outstretched in the couch, arm behind his head and watching something on television again. He didn’t complain when Bucky passed in front of it to slide into the bedroom. Natasha was still there, there was a small pile of clothes on the foot of the bed. At the top she had dumped out what seemed like the entirety of his wardrobe and had begun folding it. 

Anya had relocated herself to one of Bucky’s pillows to avoid mount clothing, and arched her back in that way only cats could while looking absolutely regal. Once she had finished stretching out her toes, she pulled her paws back up to her body and curled up into a ball, purring contently. 

“Thanks.” Bucky muttered on a low tone, walking up to the bed. Anyone else and he would have said that it was an invasion of his privacy. Things didn’t work with Natasha that way, she had a skill of seeing everything but at the same time turning something off within herself so she didn’t see anything at all. She could fold through all his clothes that evening, and if Bucky were to ask her what brand his boxers were, she wouldn’t be able to respond. 

Had he been anyone else, she would know the answer. She was creepy like that, but Bucky loved her for it. And how could he not? Whenever she dropped by she helped him like she did. He could clean, sure, and he could fold his own clothes. But he was lacking the initiative to do so. He was lacking the initiative to do many things. “You’re welcome.” She said and put another t-shirt on the bed. Bucky went to kick his bedroom door shut and Natasha took her queue. She turned around, allowing Bucky a moment of privacy as he pulled on his underwear. 

“Can you put my hair up for me before we go?” He asked her, kicking away the towel from his feet and looking through the clothes she had picked out for him. “And get me one of those hoodies you sewed for me instead?”

“Sure.” Natasha’s answer was light and simple, she put a pair of jeans on the pile of jeans, then dug out a hoodie from it’s own respective pile. “This one?” She asked and flipped it to him. Bucky glanced up, decided that the print would do and nodded. 

“Yeah, that’ll be fine.” He sat down on the edge of the bed and began pulling on his jeans. Just a few months after coming home from the Hospital Natasha had come over one day, sewing machine in hand and altered half of Bucky’s hoodies. Unceremoniously cutting away the left sleeve and sewing them back shut again after Bucky had voiced his dislike of how a sleeve was always by his side, and how he thought that putting it up was stupid. 

So she had fixed the issue for him, and whenever he wore one of those hoodies he felt by far much more normal. It had been a wonderful afternoon, and probably one of the first times he had actually laughed after the accident. They had ended it with binge watching American Horror Story that evening and sharing a bag in box of wine. 

Bucky looped his belt through and buckled it. Pulled the t-shirt over his head and then the hoodie. By then Natasha was nearly finished with his clothes, so they put all of that back into the wardrobe first before going back out to Clint. 

“Are we leaving or what?” Clint asked, not looking up from his phone. “I got a text from Scott asking where the hell we were.” 

“Two minutes.” Natasha purred before heading to the bathroom, found the hairtie and helped Bucky tie back his mane of hair, she paused, fingers in his hair. “Bun or pony?” She asked, Bucky shrugged as if to say that she could decide. She did, and when he felt back he felt the bun. 

“Great.” Clint turned off the television and got up, joining the others by the door. “Cheer up Buck, just one beer, one game, and we’re going to have a great time.” 

“The more you two say that, the more it makes me want to lock you two out.” Bucky muttered as he locked his door, then checked by the handle to ensure that it was alright. “So where are we going?” 

“The others are waiting at Shepherds, so we can walk, it’s not raining or anything.” Clint bounced ahead, pushing down the button to call for the elevator, and then proceeded to go down the stairs anyway. Bucky rolled his eyes and followed him down. 

“It is November Clint, it’s cold as balls outside.” Bucky stuffed his hand into the front pocket of his hoodie. Clint proceeded to ignore him. Natasha patted him on his back and started to head the stairs herself. 

“And here I thought you like the winter months.” Natasha chimed. Bucky rolled his eyes and followed the people he called friends. Seriously, he couldn’t have been in his right mind when he met that gang and decided to call them family. 

-

Wanda shrieked at the sight of him, pushing herself in between Thor and Tony to make way over to Steve. She threw her arms around his neck, and it took all of Steve’s willpower not to lift her up. She was so light against him. 

“The golden son has returned!” Tony exclaimed loudly, walking up to them and patting Steve on his back. Wanda still refused to let him go. “Good to see you man, tell me, did you and Sam have a started party going on or what, and where do I get the drinks?” 

Steve barely had the time to give Tony his answer before Thor came over and hugged both Wanda and Steve in the process. “Good to see you, how was Africa?” Thor’s ever cheerful voice boomed, and it seemed that in the year gone he still had to learn an inside voice.

“Besides warm and amazing and religious at every corner?” Steve chuckled, pulling himself free from their bear hug. Sam had handed a bottle of beer over to Tony. 

“Ohh did you see any lions in front of your window when you woke up?” Wanda asked, bouncing a little bit as she spoke. “I had a friend who did something similar to what you did and she swears to me that she woke up one morning, pulled her curtains and there was a lion strolling by.” 

Steve laughed and shook his head. “No lions, plenty of elephants however, we didn’t go out until they had left after that.”

“Man are you for real?” Sam weaseled his way into the conversation from the kitchen. “I’m calling bullshit on that one until I see photographic evidence.” Tony emerged from the kitchen holding a beer bottle, which seemed oddly out of place while looking at him. Upon first meeting him Steve had always assumed that Tony was the whiskey sort, rum and other fancy drinks in small glasses. And while that might be true for any events he had to attend, he still had a love for shitty beer when there was no risk of any cameras snapping a picture of him. 

“I swear on my mother's grave, we saw elephants every now and then in the morning. You can ask ‘Ro when she’s here next time. I think she was returning to the states next month.” Steve assured Sam, who rolled his eyes because of course Steve had to bring an eyewitness into it.

“I’m sorry, did I miss something, who’s this ‘Ro?” Tony did his little twirl, looking around in the apartment. Steve gestured for Tony to pass him the beer bottle on one of the unopened cardboard boxes. He did as he was asked. 

“Ororo Munroe. She’s from the Xavier institute, was in charge for the whole building of the school thing. Cool woman. You know she used to be married to T’Challa right? From that Wakandan foundation?” Steve seated himself in one of the chairs, gesturing for the others to take seats wherever they could. 

“No shit? Think I’ve met her then.” Tony cast his eyes up to the ceiling, and while he wore sunglasses indoors in the middle of November, Steve knew Tony well enough that he was squinting, attempting to recall her. “White hair? Yes I know her, she laughed over how she saved him from being kidnapped and that was how they met.” Tony shrugged. “You would love her Point Break, you can bond over that love for storms you both have.” 

“A woman of my own heart.” Thor shouted out from the kitchen, proving that in the year Steve had been away he hadn’t learned that there was an indoor voice. He didn’t belong in the city. “Seriously Steve, you’ve got no good beer in, at all. One would think that’s your priority.” 

“My priority was getting all my boxes indoors from the van so they didn’t ticket me.” Steve huffed, he hadn't believed that the parking prices could get worse in one year, but apparently they had and he was not willing to accept it.

“Tell me about it, I almost worked up a sweat with the way he was slaving me around.” Sam joined them out in the living room, Thor by his side who had settled for a low quality beer in the end anyhow. 

“Rather that than pay myself blue for just fifteen minutes Sam, that was just outrageous.” Steve defended himself with. Wanda gave a nod in agreement, patted the empty space beside her on the couch and Thor took his chance, she pulled up her legs and draped them over him. 

“Lot’s of things are outrageous Steven, among others is that you’re letting me pay those parking prices while you’re all just sitting down and having beers. Come on Happy is waiting downstairs for us. I actually booked our usual table at Shepherds come on, not taking any risks, get up people go go go.” Tony clapped his hands together, urging people up from their seats by heading into the hallway first of all. 

“They come in here, they complain about the beer but steal it anyway, and then they leave. Such ungrateful friends.” Steve shook his head and cast his eyes up. Thor laughed, in that booming way that could make anyone's bones warm in a cold winter.

Manuvrating everyone in the hallway turned out to be a challenge. With five people, three boxes and a shoe rack on fifteen square feet it resulted in more shouting and shoving than they originally intended. It was a work out in it’s own, but when the final person (Tony, somehow) stumbled out of the apartment, everyone was flushed with laughter. The jackets already deemed necessary. 

They already managed to annoy Steve’s new neighbours on the way down. No one came out to grumble at them, but Steve had a feeling that the next few weeks he kept matters very quiet. 

Happy was waiting just outside the apartment building, playing a game on his mobile phone in the front seat of a humongous Chevrolet SUV. Which Thor upon seeing, loudly exclaimed with a mischievous grin while glancing at Tony, ah, the glorified soccer van! 

The result was that Tony tried to make it clear to Thor for half of the ride that the SUV was not a soccer van, and even if it was that they would be the worst team ever and he’d be ashamed to drive them around. Steve sat in the back with Wanda, who kept asking him questions about how Africa had been, expressing desire that she too wanted to do a venture like that but her brother apparently kept talking her out of it. 

Shepherds was just as Steve remembered it to be. Dark and smokey, despite that the owner hadn’t allowed people smoking indoors for years. The small stairway down from the sidewalk was paved with posters of small local concerts, torn and ripped and glued over. Indoors, the counter was filled with people, talking loudly to one another and laughing in such a way that made one feel included even if one didn’t have a single clue who the others were. The television was on, streaming the youtube videos of the rock songs currently being played through the speakers. Electronic guitars adorned the wall, pictures of the pubs loyal customers in between them and one, larger frame of some Rock Star Steve still hadn’t recognized in the middle of it all. No one could believe Steve couldn’t recognize the man, and none of his friends were helpful in telling him who it was. All they told him was that Steve knew who he was. 

Shepherds was everything that Steve had missed, the embodiment of a good time, and everything that he had missed in Africa no matter how marvelous the country had been. To him, finally entering Shepherds that evening felt like truly coming home. Not moving into an apartment and hurrying his boxes indoors to avoid paying a parking ticket. Not eating pizza of the floor with Sam, not having Tony complain about his beer and drink it anyway. No, wandering into Shepherds and see the barkeep raise up his hand to greet them, that was coming home. 

Despite being the smallest of the group save for Wanda, Tony wormed his way through the people and to their usual table. There was a makeshift piece of paper folded on it, written with thick black marker reserved, and a lone, bored looking man was sitting in the middle of the booth nursing a glass of whiskey. 

“Steven.” Tony began, pulled Steve by his arm up front to the table, and then gestured for Thor to get them something to drink. Steve didn’t check if Thor had gotten the memo, he had a feeling that the other was already up front and ordering. “Meet Stephen!” Tony gestured to the man sitting at their booth. He looked up from his drink, and the gaze in his eyes almost gave Steve a hint in the back of his head that the man would rather be shot than sit in such a bar. 

“It’s Strange.” Stephen said, then with a sigh extended his hand for Steve to shake. He took it hesitantly. At least the other had a solid shake, which Steve instantly appreciated. 

“Not really? Steven is a pretty normal name? I mean, not uncommon for us to share the name?” Steve told Stephen, looking at Tony for assistance. Instead his friend just barked out a laugh and patted Steve on his chest before sliding into the booth. 

“Ha, you’re hilarious. He’s hilarious. No his name actually is Strange, it’s his surname. He gets pissy when people call him Stephen.” Tony patted Stephen on his arm, who just rolled his eyes and drank from his drink. 

“Oh.” Steve felt like an idiot, and seated himself in the booth next to Tony. “Oh so he’s the guy…?” Steve asked, gesturing from Tony to Steve. A few months ago Steve had gotten an email, a happy one from Tony which contained more than just talking on about gadgets. And for once had Tony gush on about this guy that he had met. Steve had been a gentleman, and had given Tony his joy without making fun of him. Tony grinned widely, something that Steve hadn’t seen done in just that way before and honestly, felt rather intimidated by it. 

“They complete each other, you should hear them when they bicker. They sound as if they’ve already been married for the past fifty years.” Wanda slid into the booth and seated herself next to Stephen, seemingly not intimidated at all. Sam joined Steve by his side. 

“Oh look, look he’s trying not to comment on that.” Tony said, pointing to the corner of Stephen’s lips. Truth to be told Steve couldn’t tell what he was supposed to look at, but he guessed that for those who had known Stephen for more than five seconds it was rather obvious for Sam snorted. 

“Drinks!” Thor finally joined them by the table and Sam, a grown ass man actively whooped at the sight and took the first drink he could lay his hands on. There was a scramble as people looked over the tray, trying to find the drink they knew for sure Thor had remembered for them. When each had their drinks in their hand, Thor backed up and raised his drink to Steve. “To Cap, who we are pleased to have back after such a heartbreaking separation, may he have come to his senses and never leave us again!”

“To Cap! Everyone echoed except for Strange. Steve positively felt his cheeks begin to hurt at his grin, happy to be back with the people he considered his family. Everyone raised their drinks and clanged them together, and for that Strange joined. The first sip was taken, and in Sam’s case, first drink.

So Sam drummed his hands on the wooden table. “Right. Shots.” He declared, worming his way already out of the seat. Nobody stopped him. 

-

Bucky should have known that his threat of just one beer wouldn’t last all that long. That he would be going back to his apartment after having spent half an hour at Shepherds and that was it. He should have known really that Natasha and Clint had plans on how to warp him into staying. Although he suspected that the second round of beers brought to the table by Scott, had been purely incidental. 

He couldn’t really leave when Scott just had gone out of his way to treat everyone. That was rude, and while his mother may not have been around to observe the whole ideal, Bucky still felt his eyes in her neck. She had raised her son to be better than that, so he had remained and started nursing his second beer. 

By the time that nearly had been emptied, Clint had finally gotten ahold of the darts for the dartboard and dragged them all along. Bucky had declined to play. He used to be okay at the game, but now with one arm down he didn’t need to figure out how to play the game with a shifted centre of gravity. Luckily for him, Clint didn’t ask, and he proceeded to kick Natasha and Scott at the game. But now he had a five dollar bet invested into it, and he had to watch the whole ordeal through. 

Although he would much rather die than to admit it, but Bucky wound up enjoying himself out with the others. It was funny, how laying on a couch and wasting his day away would still result in him not wanting to go out anywhere. And absolutely loathing the idea to leave his apartment and get out and do things. But the moment he went out, the moment there were some laughs shared, a beer and Bucky able to hide away in a corner so people wouldn’t get the chance to stare or to even notice, then all that would seep away and he would actually enjoy himself. 

Of course, that didn’t happen all the times. There had been moments where the others had dragged him out and he had felt so out of it, so warped in his skin with his stomach burning in stress and feeling as if the slightest touch would shatter him. It was a hit and miss. The only problem was, one always feared that the upcoming evening was a miss. 

This evening, was not one of those nights. It wasn’t as if Bucky would go ot on a limb and say it was the best evening he ever had. but it definitely belonged on the list of better nights out in the past year. And once he finished his third beer he decided that he had earned enough socializing points to be allowed to go outside for a smoke. Bucky dragged Scott with him, not for company but because it had gotten windy, and the last thing Bucky wanted to do was to ask a stranger for help. 

There were two other men and one young woman talking on the pavement. The woman held a cigarette in between her fingers, arms crossed under her breasts and shivering a little bit in the cool air. One man built the size of a bear didn’t seem bothered by it the least despite only having a tshirt on and chatted away happily to the other two. The second man was slightly shorted, sported a bit of a beard and looked up to the other man with a wide grin, cigarette in his own hands. At least he had the sense to wear a jacket. 

“Here.” Scott pulled Bucky’s attention back to him, and offered Bucky a cigarette out of his package. Bucky took it from in between Scott’s fingers and placed it against his lips, cupping his hand around it so Scott could light it. With one practiced drag he got the cigarette lit. Sott pushed the lighter back in the package and stuffed it back into the front pocket of Bucky’s hoodie. It was just a tad bit to cold. 

“Thanks.” Bucky muttered under his breath. Scott didn’t comment anything, he had always been good to Bucky like that. Quiet acknowledging that nothing would ever be the same for Bucky, but yet helped him without question or judgement and in such a neutral expression that one could even doubt he was right there doing it in the first place. Bucky took comfort in that. It was hard enough already to ask for help, so when the person helping him turned off themselves like that, Bucky could only be appreciative. 

“See you back inside.” Scott patted Bucky’s shoulder and jumped back down the stairs. Not intending to stick around for baby sitting and realising from one look alone that Bucky wanted a little bit of space. A man should be able to enjoy his cigarette in peace, Scott had said once upon a time. 

Bucky didn’t bother responding, and instead took a drag from the cigarette instead to relax. He looked over the street which was empty of vehicles, save for the parked cars. A taxi drove by but that was it. There were a handful of people walking the streets, and more than half of the windows in the buildings were out. The thrum of music from Shepherd's was audible out on the street, and Bucky found himself listening along to the songs. 

The woman put out her cigarette, stood up on her toes and pulled the taller man down to give him a kiss on his cheek. “I’m going back inside.” She said, Bucky couldn’t help but overhear. He glanced over to them, and saw how she tiptoed as well to kiss the other man on his cheek. “See you both in a bit.” She smirked to them, then went down the stairs to go into the pub again. The bear of a man cleared his throat. 

“I’m going in as well, it is cold Rogers I’m not even sorry.” The bear chuckled, patted the others shoulder and went down the stairs again as well. Bucky kept looking at the bearded man, tilting his head a little bit and found an annoying strand of hair had loosened out of the bun. He brushed it behind his ear and made a note to ask Natasha for help again when he got back inside. 

The man, Rogers, didn’t say anything. He just turned and leant against the fence, enjoying his cigarette. Bucky didn’t know what spurred him to talk. Maybe it was the remnants he held of a once sociable self who could talk the ears of a wall. Or maybe it was because of the beers he had drunk. Or maybe it just was genuine curiosity that blurted out of him before he even was given the chance to stop it. 

“You’re that guy they’re throwing that party for right?” Bucky spoke up. Rogers head snapped up and out of his daydream, looking over to Bucky. He gestured down the stairs and to Shepherd’s. “At the other end of the bar? That reserved booth?” Bucky had caught eye of them, mostly because there was one grown ass man who seemingly had little or no self respect and kept whooping. 

“Oh.” Rogers flashed a grin, nodding a few times and kicked away something invisible from the pavement. He didn’t turn towards Bucky though, which he considered fair. He had after all broken an unspoken rule of cigarette smokers. If they had been there with friends who had gone inside then there was no reason to speak up to them. If they had been alone from the start, that was a whole different ball game. “Yeah.” Nothing else to go on. 

“Happy Birthday?” Bucky guessed, figuring that was the biggest chance someone would go out for and celebrate at this time of year. He didn’t seem to be a student, or even remotely close to that age. And even so, the time of exams and such hadn’t started, right? He wasn’t sure, he had dropped out of High school and the thought of going to college had never once even struck his mind. 

“No I uhh-” Rogers actually turned to him at that, Bucky quirked an eyebrow in interest. “I’ve been away for a year. Only got back a few days ago so. They’re throwing a bit of a celebration for that.” The cigarette the other held in between his fingers was nearly finished. His company wouldn’t last long. 

“Ah.” Bucky nodded, that made sense, he supposed. He put his cigarette between his lips and held it there, shoving his hand in the pocket of his hoodie to warm it. It was rather ridiculous how cold it had gotten in the time he had been inside the bar. Or maybe the bar was outrageously warm. That could also be the case. “Army? You look like the army sort.”

“No.” Rogers shook his head again. This time a little smirk came over him. Bucky raised his eyebrow, curious to hear what else would drag a man away from their home for a year. At least, he assumed that it was home. Bucky could hear the Brooklyn accent laced into Rogers words, not entirely unlike his own. “I was in Africa, helped build a school and a hospital, that sort of thing.”

“Sounds religious.” Bucky stated, words slightly muffled as he kept his cigarette in between his lips. Rogers laughed a little bit, and Bucky felt a hint of a smirk come over him. “Was it religious?” He asked, deciding to check for safe ground first before he dropped his comment. 

“No.” Rogers snorted. “It wasn’t religious.” 

“Oh good.” Bucky breathed. “I’ve always hated the way churches do that you know? Hey here we are to help you, have a school and staff, have a hospital and medicine and doctors. But oh hey have you heard the word of Jesus Christ? Oh and maybe discard your own god or gods while you’re at it. It’s disgusting.” Rogers snorted again, although he carried an expression that only told Bucky he really didn’t want to react the way he did. Bucky smirked and looked out over the street, another taxi drove by. 

“They’re not all like that.” Rogers tried. Bucky shrugged with his shoulder as if to say I suppose. “A lot of them really do help, even if the people they do help don’t believe in baby jesus and his dad.” 

“True.” Bucky relented. They were always willing to help, he had experienced that first hand. And he also supposed that many found the comfort in it as well. After all, here were the people from a different god that were willing to help, when at times it might have seemed like their own gods did nothing. 

It was just that they weren’t always tactful in the way they expressed their comfort towards people who needed help. Bucky had also learned that first hand. When his mothers church had first offered help after the accident, but when one lady had told him that god has a plan for you dear, he had lost it. If god’s plan involved him losing an arm then God could go and fuck himself, for as far as Bucky was concerned. “They’re just not always tactful about it, that’s all. And then they go and buy bells for half a million Euros to their lavish churches rather than you know, help people.” Bucky removed the cigarette from his lips and tapped off the ashes. Halfway left to go, he glanced at the cigarette of Rogers. Nearly down to the stub. 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right about that.” Rogers agreed. “I didn’t go with a religious foundation like that. I went with the X foundation. If you’ve heard of it?” Bucky looked back to Rogers and nodded, there was a slight red tint over Rogers cheekbones and Bucky couldn’t figure out if it was because the other had been drinking (because he did seem very cheerful), or because it was cold. “They build a lot of schools all over to help and educate kids from tough backgrounds and such. And they worked together with uh, T’Challa? That Prince from Wakanda on this one? He does a lot of charity work like that as well.” 

“Sounds like you picked the right foundation to go with.” Bucky commented. Rogers beamed a smile, making a him look like a five year old who just had been told he could go wild in a sweets shop. It was adorable. Bucky chuckled and shook his head lightly, tearing his gaze away from Rogers as he did. 

“Yeah, I like to think so as well.” Rogers admitted on a dreamy tone, leaving Bucky no doubt that he was reminiscing his time spent on the other side of the world. When Bucky glanced over Rogers was putting his own cigarette out against the fence, then tossed the butt of it in the trash. “I really shouldn’t smoke.” He commented. “I’ve got asthma.”

Bucky shot into a laugh at that comment, not quite sure he had actually heard what he just had heard. And when he looked over to Rogers and saw his sheepish expression, he laughed again as he realised he had heard exactly what he thought he had heard. It made Bucky cough a couple of times, which only added to a certain sort of humour around the whole ordeal he thought, and he giggled. “If you’ve got asthma, then why the hell are you out here smoking?”

“Because I’m one of those stupid people who smoked when they were teens to fit in with the cool kids but never fit in against my better judgement, you know those kids?” Rogers stepped closer to Bucky, and leant against the fence beside him. Bucky snickered and nodded, oh he could remember those kids alright. “Well, the result, I kept smoking. I’m the walking billboard of, once you’re stuck you’re stuck kid don't touch the cancer stick!” Rogers spread out his hands in front of them as if he was imagining a billboard in front of them. Bucky giggled again, feeling Rogers shrug beside him. “Now I just smoke on special occasions, like, New Years eve, and that’s it. Besides be coming home after a year long absence obviously.”

“Hmm.” Bucky hummed and looked at his own cigarette, nearing the end of it now. “I was that other cool kid that smoked. You know, the one in the back of the room away from the sport folks that always managed to turn up late to class? Always had a guitar with him and played songs in the hallway during recess?” 

Rogers laughed, tilting his head back before glancing down to Bucky. “Please tell me you didn’t play Wonderwall?” Bucky laughed, feeling busted at the question alone. Rogers beside him started giggling at the idea. 

“I may have been guilty of playing Wonderwall and annoying everyone else yes. But to my defence. That song was only like three years old or something when I was fourteen. It was still considered new and in.” Bucky told Rogers, looking up to him. 

“That’s no excuse. It was overplayed, because of people like you who can play guitar, played that song in every damn hallway.” Rogers was grinning at him. “You still play? Or was that just a trick to hook up with girls?”

“Nah I don’t…” Bucky paused, took a final drag from his cigarette and wondered what to say. “I don’t play anymore.” He left it at that, there was nothing more to say on the topic. It seemed to satisfy Rogers however, who studied him before offering his hand to Bucky. He looked at it dumbfounded. 

“Steve Rogers.” Rogers who now had a first name, introduced himself with a smirk. Bucky finished his cigarette, tossed it away and took Steve’s hand. One strong, solid shake and that was it, even if the tug on his arm caught him slightly of balance. He was grateful for leaning against the fence behind them. 

“James Barnes. But Bucky’s fine. Bucky’s better actually.” He didn’t need to tell Steve that he probably would ignore the other if he actually did call him James. Not even his parents called him that anymore. How lovely it was to be named after a family member only for the entire family to find out that said member was a complete downright asshole. 

“How do you get Bucky from James?” Steve asked curiously, retreating his hand and crossed his arms over his chest.

“My middle name is Buchanan.” Bucky admitted, and Steve barked another laugh. Bucky for once in his life, didn’t mind. If the roles had been reversed he was positive that he would have laughed right at Steve’s face as well.

“Oh my god, really?” Steve giggled again. “I’m sorry it’s actually not that funny.” 

“Yes it is, who the fuck names their kid Buchanan? My mom apparently.” Bucky had never asked her reasoning behind it, and truth to be told he didn’t want to know either. Some things were best left untouched. Steve giggled again, casting his gaze up to the sky and the sound was positively warming. 

“Hey Buck!” The door to the pub slammed open, and before Bucky knew it Clint had climbed up and to the fence, wrapping one arm around Bucky’s neck to pull him into a combined chokehold and a hug. “You want another one?” Clint offered, and at that instant Bucky was struck with the wishful thought that it had been Scott who came out to check up on him, with his neutral smile and wouldn’t get involved. Clint would be the one spreading the word why he was still out here.

Bucky debated the question, fumbling his fingers over the cigarette package in the front pocket. He then nodded, deciding that yeah, it if delayed him having to go back inside while he still had some good company, then he would have another one. Steve could have gone back inside, but he had chosen to remain out here talking to a stranger. 

Clint let go of Bucky and disappeared behind him down the steps, then raced up them just as quick and darted past Steve. Bucky handed him the cigarette package and with quick and practiced movements from his own smoking days opened the package and tapped a cigarette out. “Clint, this is Steve.” Bucky felt a bit rude just leaving Steve hanging like that. 

“Nice to meet you.” Clint said without even looking at Steve and flicked the lighter, a small burst of flame came up and he covered it with his hand till Bucky could do it himself. “You looking after our boy for us yes?” Clint then positively beamed at Steve while Bucky lit the cigarette. 

“Sure, I mean, yeah I guess?” Steve mumbled, frowning a little bit. Bucky rolled his eyes and Clint tapped the lighter back into the package and passed it back to Bucky. 

“Good good. You look kind of, holy you know?” Clint gestured all over Steve with his hand, as if that made his point clear. Steve kept his frown, and looked both uncomfortable and confused. “Like Hercules and Mother Teresa had a baby or something like that.” 

“Clint shut up.” Bucky hissed to him and punched him in his arm. Clint being Clint, just rubbed his arm and laughed a bit. “Don’t mind him, he’s either grade A asshole or grade A moron. usually it is a combination of both.” Bucky explained, moving his finger beside his head in a small circle as if to indicate that Clint was indeed loco. The problem however was that Clint had both seen and heard Bucky do it, so he just threw another arm around Bucky and pulled him to his side. 

“Right…” Steve muttered, still looking at Clint with a cautious gaze, still uncertain of what to make of Clint and who could blame him. The man was an acquired taste and while he didn’t mean it, he rubbed a lot of people wrong just by the things he blurted out. 

“Clint just.” Bucky tried to squirm out of Clint’s grip, when it wouldn’t relent he gave him a shove in his side, that tore Clint away from him. “Go inside, go back to the others I’ll be fine.” Clint opened his mouth, to protest or to say something or to start a completely unrelated story that Bucky didn’t want to hear. Why did Clint have to come out? “Go.” 

Clint’s mouth shut and he looked at Bucky, but then gave the slightest of a nod to indicate that he would. He took a step back. “Didn’t mean to offend you mate.” Clint turned his focus to Steve as he backed up. “Hey why don’t you come join us inside then as well, we can play a game of darts, maybe he’ll actually join us for that.” Clint winked to Bucky and then disappeared down the steps. 

Bucky just rolled his eyes and purposely looked away from Clint. “Seriously just… forget about him. He grew up in a circus I’m not even kidding. He has zero social skills, and if you play darts with him he will win I swear you. He has never lost a game for as long as I’ve known him and that’s like, close to fifteen years now. It was his act. Hawkeye or something stupid he called himself.” Bucky went on, angry with Clint for having come in and destroyed what had been a fun and lighthearted conversation. He hadn’t had one of those in a long time. Scott would just have lit the cigarette and left. Why couldn’t it have been Scott?

Steve didn’t respond, and when Bucky glanced over to him he felt it. He not only felt it, but he could also see. The well-meaning, but both confused and startled look as he looked to Bucky’s left side, now in full view and trying to comprehend that there was a part gone, a part that was missing. Bucky shuffled with his feet a bit, allowing Steve a second before he told him off. Sometimes, people caught themselves in the act, and he didn't want to rob anyone of realising their own mistake. Hell, it meant less for him to deal with. 

“Steve.” Bucky started, uncomfortable and cleared his throat. “Steve uh, you’re staring.” Bucky turned to his side, breaking Steve’s line of sight. And that’s when Steve retaliated and seemed to grow aware of what he just had done. 

“Shit, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to.” Steve blurted out, reaching out with one hand, his cheeks turned redder, and Bucky decided that the hints of red he had seen earlier had been from the cold. This, however was a blush of shame. “I swear I didn’t mean to. Fuck that was rude of me.” 

“Forget it.” Bucky waved with his hand, wanting to leave the whole ordeal behind him. He hadn’t wanted to guilt trip Steve like that, that hadn’t been his intention. But he also felt looked at enough at times to feel the inexplicable need to call people out when they were doing it. “Don’t worry about, people look. Can’t avoid that.” Now it was his turn to kick something invisible of the sidewalk. Steve chewed on his bottom lip, while moments earlier he had been as happy as a five year old set loose in a sweets shop, now he was the very same five year old busted with his hand in a cookie jar. 

“I didn’t mean to.” Steve repeated on a softer tone. Bucky raised his hand and waved it off. Damn it Clint, not only interrupting a good conversation, but also made it awkward now. He supposed it also could have happened with Scott, still, Bucky liked to think that it wouldn’t. 

“Steve.” Bucky said, giving him a smile. “People stare, it happens. You apologised, and I accept that apology. Don’t beat yourself up about it.” He didn’t know what was worse. The people who stared at him for it, or those who kept stumbling over their own words to make up for it. Both sides were equally awkward to be on in his seat. 

Steve looked like he wanted to protest. But he was the sort who swallowed back whatever he wanted to say and seemed to take Bucky’s words in. He nodded. “Is that why uhh, he helped you with the cigarette?” Steve asked carefully, testing the waters to see if that was treading to far in. Bucky nodded, people were curious, that was something he also had grown to accept. And Steve had been nice enough to talk with, so Bucky could indulge him. 

“Yeah, I mean if it’s not windy, then I can manage just fine you know? But if it is windy it’s kind of difficult to keep the flame on the lighter from going out? And I like this place so I’d rather not get kicked out for lighting one indoors.” Bucky chuckled and gestured to the door. Steve looked down to the bar. 

“Yeah I can get that.” Steve nodded. “Hey listen, when you’re done with that. Why don’t you let me buy you a drink? It’s kind of cold to keep talking out here. And my friends will wonder where I went off to, I’m sure yours think the same.”

Bucky looked at Steve, taking him in when he offered the suggestion. He hadn’t meant to get warped into a fourth beer for the evening, but neither had he planned for the first three to begin with. And Steve turned out to be a pleasant guy to talk with, even if Bucky imagined that he probably just wanted to head back to his friends rather than talk the rest of the evening with Bucky. “Uh yeah, sure, why not?” After all, what could go wrong?

-

Bucky wasn’t sure how it had happened. Somehow, while drinking the beer that Steve had bought him, his group of friends had merged with that of Steve. While Steve had taken Bucky’s warning and didn’t play the game of darts with Clint, the same warning hadn’t been spelled out for Tony and Thor from Steve’s group, who proceeded to loose their remaining cash to Clint as he hit bullseye after bullseye. 

It turned out however, that Tony had plenty of cash to go around, and kept paying anyone who was willing to take Clint on with the presumption that he had to lose at some point when he got to drunk. That didn’t turn out to be the case. 

And for the first time in a year, it felt like Bucky had laughed. He spent most of the time sitting in the booth, drinking his beer and talking with Steve, Natasha and Wanda. The two women took an instant liking to one another, especially when they found out that they were from neighbouring countries. 

Before Bucky knew, it was past two in the morning, four beers had turned into five and people were starting to leave Shepherds. Scott had already left. Clint had reached a point where he began to sing and at that Natasha decided that it was time to leave. Thor had moved over to a table with a couple of college girls and was drinking with them. Sam had disappeared. Tony and Stephen (Bucky believed, he wasn’t certain) were in the process of still pulling on their jackets when all of them left Shepherds and entered the freezing night. 

“You’ll be fine?” Natasha asked, even if it was more of a statement than anything, holding Clint steadily by his waist. His head rolled onto her shoulder, and Bucky had a feeling that Laura wouldn’t be to happy seeing him return like that, even if she supposedly was okay with him going out for the night. 

“I’ll be fine, it’s not that far of a walk.” Bucky gestured up the street and shivered a little bit, the wind had turned nastily cold, and he was already looking forward to crawl under his sheets. Beer had warmed him, but even that had a limit. 

“You don’t want a ride or anything?” Tony offered, gesturing over to the parked SUV with one very bored looking man behind the wheel. “Really, it’s no trouble.” Strange opened the doors, and tried to shove his drunken partner into the car. 

“Thanks, I’ll be fine.” Bucky responded, ignoring the banter between the two men as Tony called Strange rude, that he was in the middle of a conversation. Natasha came up to him and kissed him on his cheek. Clint attempted to drape his arm around Bucky’s shoulders, but Natasha pulled him away. 

“Are you going to be okay with him?” Steve asked, concerned as he looked down to Natasha. Being a full head shorter than Clint, and quite thin Bucky could understand his concern for her. But he only smirked. 

“I’ll be fine, I know five martial arts, I can get him home in an instant.” She winked to Steve. “Nice meeting you guys, bye! Clint say bye. Bucky text when you’re in alright?” Natasha waved them off and began walking, and much like a little child Clint’s arm shot up in the sky as he obeyed her and shouted a bye to them. Bucky didn’t respond to her question, she knew he would, even if he didn’t want to admit it out loud. 

“Steve you coming?” Tony called out from the SUV, Strange looked positively exasperated at the drunken man, and looked up to the sky as he seemed to regret every single life choice he had ever made in his life. 

“No I’m going to walk, get some fresh air and all that.” Steve smirked as Tony sat back up in the car. Gave Strange a sappy smile and took his hand. 

“I’m so happy I love you.” Tony mused. Strange grunted begrudgingly, but even he seemed to melt a little bit at that and there was a flimmer of a smile across his otherwise stern features. 

“You’re lucky I love you.” Strange pulled in Tony by the back of his head and kissed him on his forehead. Then raised his hand to Steve and Bucky before putting his full focus on getting Tony in the car. 

“Which way you headed?” Steve then asked Bucky, looking aside to him again. Bucky pointed over his shoulder. Strange finally managed to shove Tony in the car and crawled in himself. Wanda’s hysterical laughter was cut off and the street seemed to fall in silence. 

“Five minutes down. You?” Bucky turned to look at Steve again, reaching for his cigarette package and put one against his lips. “Does the asthmatic mind helping me for a second?” He raised the package, showing the bright blue lighter in it. Steve chuckled, but took it out without question, cupped his hand and flicked out the flame. 

“A bit further than that, want some company?” Steve offered as Bucky leant in to light the cigarette. Once lit, he nodded and kept the flap open of the package so Steve could shove the lighter back into it. 

“Yeah sure. That’d be nice.” The SUV beside them finally drove off, leaving them alone on the sidewalk. Thor was still in the bar drinking with the college girls, and seemed to have no intention of going home anytime soon unless it was with someone on his arm. 

They walked down the street together, first in silence until they reached the first crossing and then Steve began talking. He told Bucky about how he had been out with the very same friends a few years prior and Wanda’s brother (who Clint for the record, would probably love and become as thick as thieves with) and how they had been out long enough to see the sun rise and had gone ice skating come morning against their better judgement. The result was that they had all fallen, and had to make two separate trips to the emergency room. 

Bucky had laughed and asked if there had been any broken limbs involved, to which Steve admitted that there had been. He had sprained his ankle and Pietro had broken an arm, and Tony’s side had been bruised from having Pietro smash into him. 

They reached Bucky’s apartment building far to early, he realised, and stopped in front of the door. “This is me.” He said, entirely unhelpful. Steve glanced up the building and nodded a couple of times. That flush had come over his cheeks again, and his hands were shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans. 

“Right. Well. It was nice meeting you Bucky, I had a lot of fun tonight. Thanks for joining the party and all that.” Steve shuffled with his feet, seemingly awkward, then stepped forward and gave Bucky a hug. He stiffened at first, unsure of what to do before his mind kick-started again and he wrapped his arm around Steve’s back in response. 

“Hey, it was fun.” Bucky said, realising that for the first time in forever he felt genuine when he said it. He wasn’t sure if it was the company or the alcohol. It didn’t matter whatever it was, he tried to put the focus in the fact that he had enjoyed himself and that he probably would sleep most of the day as a result of it. 

“Do you think I could, maybe have your number or something? Hang out again sometime?” Steve stammered as he let go of Bucky. And there it was, Bucky thought, the doubt coiling in him again, unsure Steve’s red tinted cheeks were because of the cold, the drink, or if he now was actually blushing at this point. Steve pinched his nose, a sign of nervousness he guessed. Or rather wished. 

“Sure.” Bucky scratched his neck. Steve beamed at him, and pulled out a cellphone from his jacket. He fumbled with it a bit, and when he gave a sign Bucky read him up his phone number. Only moments after Bucky felt his own phone in his pocket vibrate, along with a short swoosh sound sound. “That’s… you. Probably.” He chuckled. Steve smirked a little bit. 

“Nice meeting you Bucky.” Steve repeated, phone still in hand. “Have a good night.” He gave Bucky a nod, and then continued down the street. Bucky watched after him for a moment, watched how Steve didn’t look up from his phone. And he felt his cell phone vibrate again, hand in hand with the woosh sound that indicated another text. 

Bucky didn’t check, instead he twisted the code into the building, waited for the beep and pushed the door open. He went back up to his apartment, and when he stepped inside he realised how thick the air was in it, and made a note to open a window in the morning. Went out to the bedroom, undressed from his clothes until he was left in his boxers. Pulled on a fresh pair of sweatpants and went out to the bathroom. 

He left this hair up in the bun and brushed his teeth. Made the round around his apartment and pulled the curtains shut again. Anya came and pressed herself against his legs, let out a meow and then tapped over to her bowl. Bucky fed her with some dry food, and then went back into the bedroom. He fished out his phone again and saw that he now had gotten three texts. 

The last one had been from Natasha, asking him if he was home yet. Bucky just responded with the house emoji and left it at that. He crawled into bed, turned off the lamp on his nightstand and heard Anya pat into the bedroom. She jumped up on the bed only a second after, already purring and moved up to Bucky’s side. She meowed again and began to paw at the duvet, twirled around and laid down, curling up into a ball and began purring. 

He put down his phone on his stomach and scratched her behind her ear for a moment. Then he picked up the phone again and looked at the texts that Steve had sent him, already feeling the drowsiness come over him. The first text was just a winking smiley. The second felt a bit more daring, and Bucky found himself smirking at the sight of the emoji with it’s lips perked and a small heart beside it. 

“How bold.” Bucky muttered to himself as he watched the kissing emoji. He pondered what to respond when he was saving Steve’s number, and eventually settled with sending the exact same smiley in return. He turned off the sound on his phone, and vibration. Dropped the phone in his bed and went to sleep with the sound of Anya purring filling the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! This is a work in progress still, but I got the majority of the story mapped out. It just needs to go on paper. So there's not going to be a solid posting schedule for this but chapters will be posted as I complete them. And they might not all wind up being this long either. It'll be a sad ride with a happy ending. Oh and the title comes from a song Called Lullaby, from Frank Carter & The Rattlesnakes, highly recommend them. For now, have some sad Bucky!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bucky makes a mistake, feels a lot of things, has a good friend, reaches some level of self realisation and opens up a little bit.

Texting one James Buchanan Barnes felt like jumping through hurdles, Steve thought with a frown. He had studied dance in his youth, and some gymnastics. He had gotten pretty good at it if he could say some himself, won some prizes and competitions. But it had always been for fun and nothing that he had wanted to do long-term in his life or seriously. 

Texting James Buchanan Barnes, felt like doing gymnastics for the first time in fifteen years after a hiatus for an injury, only to instantly participate in the Summer Olympics with two weeks notice.

The first day after they had met, Steve hadn’t thought much of it. He had gone to bed and hadn’t left it until five in the afternoon himself. Feeling groggy and sluggish with a dull headache pounding away in his skull. He had showered to feel fresher, forced himself to drink a bottle of water and ordered in a pizza. No unpacking had happened that night, and he had spent the remains of the evening napping away in his couch, eating pizza and drinking water while not even fully watching what was playing on the television. 

Still, Steve had been pleased at the sight of the kissing emoji back, and calmed down a little bit. He had regretted sending the emoji the second he had pressed send, deciding that perhaps it was a little bit to bold after all. He wanted to blame the alcohol specifically, the conversations they had during the evening had been innocent enough, there had been some banter and not as much flirting for as far as Steve could remember. So in his opinion, the smiley had been thrown out there to see how Bucky would react. 

If he didn’t get a response at all, Steve would know that the whole ordeal was off and that he best not follow that rabbit hole down. So for Steve, to see his own kissing emoji and the one that Bucky had sent in return, meant only two words. Game on. 

That evening however, he hadn’t gone overboard. They exchanged a few texts with one another, Steve lamenting about his hangover and falling asleep in between responses. By the time he woke up again at eleven in the evening he decided to wait until the next day, just incase that Bucky had already gone to bed. That was alright, Steve thought. Flirting was best done when one was at ones full senses. 

So the first official day of texting had been awkward, Steve thought. And he kept scrolling back up into the conversation of the previous day and just couldn’t help but compare. He didn’t know if he was imagining it (he hoped he was) but it seemed like there was less enthusiasm coming from Bucky. He tried not to think about it that much, and unpacked a couple of boxes that afternoon. Mostly books that he kept trying to organize into a bookshelf, but ended up sitting on the floor reading passages from them in a nostalgic fit. 

Bucky seemed blue, and Steve spent half an hour wondering if he’d be out of line if he texted him and asked if he was alright or not. He didn’t want to come across as someone pushy, reading into things that were not there. But by the time that it was seven in the evening and most he got out of Bucky were one worded replies, Steve gave up for the day and decided that Bucky probably wasn't feeling well. And Steve had no intention of being the guy he newly met digging into troubles and matters that he didn’t know anything off. 

The next day, Bucky had done a complete one eighty. He was cheerful, half of his texts consisted of emojis and he sent along jokes and updated Steve in regards of memes that he had missed during the year. Steve did a whole lot less of unpacking because of that, and wound up sitting on his living room floor, now surrounded by boxes containing wires and dvds and candles and his buddha statues and a couple of flower pots, laughing at what Bucky had sent. 

He sent him songs, clips on youtube and told Steve to listen to it, that he would have to catch up on all the glorious music he had caught up on. They talked about that for about an hour, and Steve noticed that the texts get shorter again. So he changed the topic, and Bucky seemed to brighten up again. 

And almost like clockwork, once the sun went under and the city grew dark, the texts grew to a flirtatious note. Nothing spectacular, just some comments here and there, some complimenting. When they went to bed that evening, a multitude of kissing emojis had been exchanged. And the next day Steve heard absolutely nothing from Bucky. The day after, they were back at flirting. The day after that, it was back to one worded replies. Leaving Steve clueless once more, unsure if he had said or done something wrong, or if Bucky’s interest was as fickle as a flame in a strong wind. 

Steve put up with it for one more day, wondering if the dating scene could have changed so much since the last time he had been with someone. He hadn’t been on the dating scene for the past three years, and much could change. He had enjoyed being single before he had gone to Africa, not having felt the need to be with someone when he had needed time to figure out just who he was after being with Peggy for what seemed like an eternity. 

There had been some short flings, started in the evening and usually ended before breakfast, but that had been it. Steve hadn’t searched, and he hadn’t needed to. He still didn’t think that he needed someone, he was perfectly content on his own and he realised that he had an empty plate which he should be careful about. Adjusting back to Brooklyn, finding a job, getting used to living in a city again, hanging out with his old friends. There was so much to get used to that a relationship might be a tad to much. 

But he had liked Bucky. That evening they had shared together with their friends and Shepherds had resulted in an evening filled of good conversation and laughter. He had enjoyed their banter, and he had enjoyed Bucky’s sharp wit and at times harsh comments. The other seemed to say what was on his mind and blurt it out without much consideration for his surrounding, something that Steve could appreciate as long as it was good brutal honesty, which it seemed to be. 

And alright yeah, the beer had made him flirtatious, hoping for something which he didn’t even was there. Bucky was nice to look at, and a nice conversation hand in hand with that? How could he not reach out to him. 

But Steve had… he didn’t know. He supposed that he had expected something more, he supposed he had expected his enthusiasm to be matched by Bucky’s in their texts after he had gotten the very same emoji in response. That Bucky would be in the same good mood he had been that evening. 

When he was met with responses such as yeah and okay and alright and no, Steve quickly felt at loss of what to say. What did you say to a wall? Still, Steve had persisted for one more day, got the combination of both, flirtatious, then disappearing, then going back to one worded, and then disappearing again. The next day it had been the same bloody charade and Steve had decided to call it quits. 

He didn’t need someone, and it had been a shame. bucky had humour, charm, seemed nice and was good looking. But it had to go both ways, and Steve didn’t think he had been overly pushy towards the other either. So once the phone went down and Steve stopped texting, he got a lot more unpacking done in the apartment. Feeling slightly as if he had gotten his feathers ruffled as Bucky didn’t even text him once. 

What they had, had been little, there hadn’t been any depth to it, but it still was a rejection and rejection always stung. 

-

Anya had her paw against Bucky’s finger as he looked at his phone. He felt the ghost of his other hand against his lips, biting on a thumb that was no longer there. She was purring loudly, stretched out with all her length against Bucky’s side and the back of the couch, embedded into Bucky’s blanket and the crook of his arm. 

Bucky locked his phone and dropped it onto his stomach, turned to look back to the television and let Anya’s paw remain on his hand. Though he still couldn’t focus on what exactly he had put on, and felt lost at the narration of the reality show and the drama that was about to be displayed. Instead he felt that his mind kept trailing back to his cellphone on his stomach. 

He picked it up, somehow convinced that he had gotten another text and had just missed to feel the vibration against his stomach by on slight minescule shift. He pressed the menu button that lit up his screen, showing the black background with a white outline of a hand doing the horns symbol. 

No notification, no text, no missed call. Not that Bucky had expected a missed call, who even called these days? He pressed the button again and unlocked the phone to see if a notification just had failed to show up on lock screen. No such luck. He opened the text convo he had shared with Steve again, and found nothing. 

Muttering under his breath, Bucky locked the phone again and reached for the remote. Anya pulled her paws to herself, tensed up her back and then relaxed again. Bucky swapped the channel from the reality show (A cake show?) to VH1 instead. A Destiny’s Child song filled the room for the program _Guess the Year_. Bucky never made an attempt, mostly because he knew the song instantly (2004). 

But his phone nagged at him again and he unlocked it once more, this time promising himself that it was the last time and he would forget it after that. That he would move on. Three days since his last text from Steve. And somewhere, deep within his chest Bucky knew that he could be the one to reach out as well. That this sort of communications was fifty fifty. 

But Steve hadn’t texted him for three days, so why would he have to be the rude one and bother someone who clearly wasn’t that interested in him anymore? Bucky had known that it would happen. Bucky had known that from the second day on when they were actively talking with one another that at one point he would say something, do something, mean something and come across as far to desperate. Clingy, mentally unhinged and really, where was the lie? 

Of course Steve would see that he could do so much better. Like Clint had said, the man looked like a cross between Hercules and Mother Teresa. He looked like a divine being put on this earth to charm anyone that came across, someone who could get anyone by just smiling at them. Hercules. 

And yet there was this gentle and kind aura about him. This was a man who wouldn’t use his looks to get someone in bed and then leave them heart broken. No, this was a kind man who would help out everyone if they asked, who would talk to the cripple to make him feel better at the end of the day, keep the charade up for a day or two until he could slide away without the other fully noticing and leaving them alone. Rather than being up front and breaking their heart or something. 

Mother Fucking Teresa. 

Taking pity on cripples who couldn’t even light their own cigarette on a windy day and hadn’t left their apartment in months except for groceries. Who could go a week without showering, who didn’t clean their apartment, who had all but stopped cooking and lived of take out from across the street. Who moved from one vertical position (his bed) to the other (his couch) and would spend his day sleeping away, and sob into the night as the sight of his guitars and his vinyls depressed him. But yet he never grew the courage to move them. 

Steve could do better, Bucky had decided. He had been charmed by the emoji, thought it was bold and had enjoyed their flirtatious banter on his brighter days. Being able to hide behind the screen of a cell phone made him feel better about their conversation. And as he responded he could imagine himself as the cheerful albeit moody guy who he once had been. Who had never sat still and only came into his apartment at eleven in the evening. Always going somewhere with someone and having fun. It was easy pretending he was Bucky prior the accident, and he gained a newfound understanding for that show that went on MTV, Catfish, where young kids pretended they were someone they were not. 

The difference was, he was just pretending to be an old version of himself. And Steve had seen him first. He had his phone as a security blanket wrapped around himself. But he wasn’t hiding his head under it. 

Though he had slipped, Bucky had still felt himself go back to the way that he was before when the doubt started to nag away at him. In his truthful attempt of Catfishing, he was certain that at one point Steve would balk. He would remember that he only had one arm and he wouldn’t know how to handle that. Bucky was used to that.

He hadn’t dated anyone for the past year, he had matched with a few guys on tinder and chatted with them, and most of them grew insecure when he mentioned his arm (Bucky hadn’t even bothered with Grindr, knowing he would be turned away instantly or found someone with a fetish for it, the vanity on that app was ridiculous). And nothing had ever happened with any of them. And the worst part was, that Bucky didn’t even know for sure if they had started to change the way they spoke to him once he told them, or if he was imagining it himself. If he was imagining a scrutiny that wasn’t even there in the first place. 

And yes, he knew that it was harder to talk to someone when he started to feel like that. He knew that his texts got shorter and that he found it hard to respond to something. And he had caught himself thinking that while his cellphone was a security blanket, that at the end of the day it was just text on a screen, and he found it very difficult to read the emotions and the feelings behind what Steve texted him about. And he knew that he shouldn’t put so much thought into the fifteen hundred ways that he could take the sentence. That most of the time it was the simplest, happiest and kindest way to take it. 

But it was difficult. And Bucky saw himself as an old German Shepherd that hadn’t learned how to sit, and was only now taught to do so. 

So when the day came and he hadn’t gotten a text from Steve, Bucky was fifty shades of not surprised, another fifty shades of upset, and another fifty shades of disappointed in himself. Fluctuating into one another, no set percentages but always ever changing, allowing one feeling dominate on the others and very rarely being an even combination of all three. 

The worst part was that he wanted to text Steve, he wanted to muster up the courage to ask him how his day had been, what he had been up to and if he had finished packing. He wanted to flirt, and he wanted to apologise for being a difficult person to talk to, he wanted to explain that he hadn’t always been like that and that he was going through a lot. He wanted to tell him that he was interested, and that he wanted nothing more but to hear what was going Steve’s head. That he had loved reading the texts from the other as he kept telling him what he found in box after box and pictures of the apartment and advice on what to put where. 

It was the most involved he had felt in someone’s life for a long time. It was different with Steve than with Natasha, Clint and Scott and the others. He knew them, he knew their lives, and to meet a new person had been intoxicating in all the best ways. But the shame stopped him from doing so. So Bucky locked his phone again and looked back to the television. No, Steve was better of with someone else. And who was Bucky to stop him? He sniffed, feeling his mood plummeted down. 

But at least he didn’t have the urge to check his phone over and over again. 

-

“Pietro apparently texted Wanda, who then texted me.” Sam spoke loudly from the kitchen, helping himself to a beer after having let himself into the apartment. Steve didn’t mind, he had spent the past half hour waiting for Sam ever since he had gotten out of the shower. He had thrown a pizza in the oven and had taken it out just prior to Sam’s arrival, now sitting down on his couch and eating it. He had muted the television. “That he’s coming as soon as he’s done with practice and had a shower. He still feels like a jerk for not having been able to make it last time.” 

Sam wandered into the living room, opened beer bottle now in hand and tossed the blanket of the armchair to the couch, sitting down and stretched out his legs. Steve shrugged. “I’ll tell him it’s okay. He had practice early that morning and a competition the next day, he shouldn’t beat himself up about it.” 

“See, that’s what I texted Wanda to tell him, and what she texted him as well. But he probably won’t take it from anyone else but Cap, so drill it into his head once and for all when he gets there yeah?” Sam took a swig of his beer. 

“Kid is well on his way making nationals. He shouldn’t apologise, he should just go for it. I’ll tell him that.” Steve scoffed, picked up a slice of pizza and offered it to Sam. “Pizza?” Sam looked at the slice, a pout came over him as he considered the offer. Considered all the running he would have to do if he allowed himself to indulge that evening into both alcohol and pizza. 

Sam opted for Pizza, leant in and took the slice of Steve. Taking a huge bite out of it. “I know I know. Wanda says he’s just been feeling really guilty about spending so much time practicing and running that his social life beyond the team has suffered a bit. He wants to have a good time, kid is only twenty-one, can you blame him?” Sam shrugged. “I know I spent most of those young years drinking away. It’s all a blur up in my head you know.” 

Steve chuckled and took another slice of pizza, glancing back to the television and saw that commercials had come on. “I’ll be sure to tell him kindly that no one is blaming him for chasing his dream. Quite literally. I can run but jesus. He’s a whole other level. We went running once together in Central Park, I thought he was going to kill me or drive me into a heart attack. That pace and stamina is not of this world.” 

Sam laughed. “Doesn’t feel very nice when it happens does it? Serves you right, Mr On your left.” Steve felt his ears turn red, but he decided not to go for the bait and follow Sam in the rabbit hole. “So yeah, they’re both coming. Tony said he was coming but wasn’t sure when, he’d drop by when he was finished with work.”

“Is that Strange guy also coming?” Steve asked directly, interrupting Sam in his little list of who was going to go out drinking with them. Sam shook his head. “Huh. He seemed.” Steve paused, trying to find the polite way to say what he was thinking. 

“Fucking rude?” Sam filled in without missing a beat. “He is at first, he just needs a lot of warming up. He’s good with Tony, they’re both little jerks together. When they get fired up they’re almost unbearable.” 

“Strange, I wanted to say, pun not intended.” Steve pointed out, although he did agree with Sam in a little way. At the end of the evening Steve still hadn’t been sur what to make of Strange, but he did remember the way that Strange had helped Tony into the SUV, how he had threatened to smile and how he had leant in to kiss Tony on the top of his head. Steve trusted that Tony was mature enough, grown enough to make his own decisions when it came to seeing men, and that he would pick someone that was good for him. And that Tony would drop them like a hot potato if they weren’t good to him. 

“Pun intended, a little bit, come on just admit it.” Sam quirked that goddamn smile, of his, coaxing Steve to just say what he was thinking and to be frank about it. He sighed and had to admit defeat. 

“Alright yeah, a little bit of pun intended.” Steve finished his pizza and tore a piece of paper from the kitchen roll, drying of his hands and got up from the couch. “You want to finish that beer so we can head out?” Steve picked up his plate and went into the kitchen, ignoring Sam calling out to him that he was working on it. He dumped the plate in the sink, tossed the piece of paper roll away and washed his hands, by the time that Steve came back out into the living room Sam was licking of his fingers. 

“Hey didn’t you begin texting that guy?” Sam then asked curiously, Steve hummed and laid out in his couch, arm behind his head. “The guy we met on your welcome back party, with the friend that just refused to lose the game of darts and the beautiful redhead that looked like she had killed men in their sleep.” 

“Bucky.” Steve filled in for Sam, who nodded and pointed over to him with his beer bottle. “I did, but, I don’t know. I stopped.” Steve shrugged. “He was much easier to talk to that evening rather than over text, he either went from not responding, to one worded replies, to being the most cheerful dude on the planet. I don’t know Sam, in the end of it he didn’t seem to be that interested so I stopped.” 

“Shame.” Sam shrugged. “You two hit off well together by the looks of it.” 

“Yeah…” Steve mused, glancing up to the ceiling. “Guess he just had a beer or two to much you know? Sobered up and decided he didn’t want to go for anything in the end anyway. Big loss. It’s not like I’m in a rush anyway.” Steve shrugged again and glanced back to Sam. 

“When the time's right all will be right.” Sam said on a helpful tone and raised his shoulders. Steve snorted at the bit of poetry and shut his eyes. Sam placed the beer bottle against his lips and tilted his head back. Then he observed the bottle with a slight shake and decided that he was finished with it. 

“Alright let’s go.” Sam got up and went to leave the bottle in the kitchen. Steve sat up and stretched out his back muscles, then went to the hallway to find his jacket and stepped into his shoes. “How’s the job hunt going by the way? You found something to keep your head busy with?” Sam joined him and took his jeans vest of the hook, pulling it on in one swift movement. 

“Haven’t really looked around that much to be honest. Don’t really know what to go for. It’s odd you know.” Steve checked the pockets of his jacket for his keys and wallet. Found that they both where were they belonged and stepped out into the hallway. “You spend an entire year with a clear purpose of what to do, and even that others tell you how to do. Then you come back and all of a sudden you’ve got to think with this instead of your hands.” Steve tapped the side of his head. 

Sam hummed a bit from behind him, and when the door fell shut Steve turned to lock it. “You had the same thing when you quit the army.” Sam said, no question, just a statement and Steve knew that he was going to shoot into his psychology talk. In a way Steve appreciated it, he had always appreciated Sam being able to look at everything from a different perspective, but yet covered all angles. 

“Yeah, problem is.” Steve pushed the button to call for the elevator. “Sitting it out, waiting it out and trying to figure out what to do, doesn’t pay Brooklyn bills. I’ve got savings, but those should go to stupid ventures like a midlife crisis sports car with an insurance I can only afford for the year it takes me to come to my senses. Or a blitz trip to Nepal and attempt to climb Mount Everest or something.” 

“Okay I know you’ve always spoken about climbing Mount Everest Steve but you just came back, stick around for a bit before you start climbing Everest alright?” Sam chuckled and stepped into the elevator when it arrived. Steve only smirked and followed him. “And I mean, it might be good you know? To stick around a little bit and try to find yourself in a place like this. Because what you do Steve, is you always pack up and leave, short bursts, you always come back and all that and I’m not hating anything on that. You live your life the way you want to live it mate. What I’m trying to say is that you never allow Brooklyn to become your home again. And I know you Steve, you’ve been doing that ever since your mother died.” 

Although it was a sore topic, one that jabbed Steve hard in his chest he couldn’t help but laugh. Because at the end of it Sam was right. He just had a better way of phrasing it than Steve ever would, even if he was given six months to figure out just how to say it. “Is that your professional opinion?” He teased. 

“Be happy. I’m offering it for free, most people have to pay for it. In fact, it is two hundred twenty-five a session. I can bill you if you like? Add some more to that pill of Brooklyn bills.” Sam didn’t miss a beat, giving Steve a smirk. One that only hinted away at how Steve was being challenged at that moment. 

“Jesus, people pay that much for you to listen to them for a session? Clearly I should have become a therapist as well.” Steve snorted, marvelling at the price that Sam charged for one session. Was that an hour? No, that seemed a bit to little. Maybe ninety minutes, that felt right. 

“And to think, I’m one of the cheaper ones in this city, they can go up to three hundred fifty here.” The doors dinged and they both stepped back out again. “It might seem much but it’s expensive to be one. I got to pay rent on not just my apartment but my office. I need a secretary so I don’t get calls during talks. I need to pay a fuckton of insurance. And let’s not even begin on cancellations Steve. I can book nine folks a day and in the end only see four.” Sam waved with his hand and left the building, hunched up his shoulders at the wind and continued down the road.

“It’s a thankless job Steve.” He continued. “A lot of work and no play for all that schooling I got through. But I tell you, it is a pretty damn nice feeling when you stop seeing someone because they’ve improved enough that they don’t need the talks anymore. That they feel better and consider themselves recovered.” 

“I can only imagine.” Steve mused. He had always admired Sam’s work with veterans, it was a niche that fit Sam’s hand like a custom glove. There had been many hours cursing over school work Steve remembered, where he had come over to coach Sam through it, but it all had paid off in the end and Steve admired him for it. He was proud over his friend.

“Anyway, back to you before you bill me.” Sam twisted the conversation again. “Think Brooklyn, and what would you like to do?”

Steve raised his shoulders. “I don’t know. Something with art I guess. But my degree is pretty much useless in the whole, help find me a job aspect. And even if I do something with art, there’s the whole struggle to get paid for it. People always want it for free but that doesn’t help me. And I’m too old to go join a coffee shop or something like that that pays me a meager wage. Don’t want to go back to school again, and don’t want to take a loan. I was lucky enough to get the army to pay for my first degree. They won’t pay for a second one.”

“No they won’t.” Sam agreed with a shake of his head. “Okay. Art.” Sam cleared his throat, stopped by the pedestrian crossing and pushed down the button beside him. It beeped and they both had their eyes turn up to the red figure across the road. “Okay, how about… art teacher? Not all schools require you to have some form of education degree on that. Sometimes personal suitability outweighs that. And a lot of times they ask that you’re able to create structured environments and all that. You were a Captain after all. So you should be perfectly able to keep kids in line if you can lead men through missions and wartorn zones. You’ve got a softer spot because you did study art, you’re amazingly talented at it, and you’ve always connected well with kids. Plus, everybody loves a veteran.” 

“I guess art teacher could be something.” Steve begrudgingly admitted. He felt a little bit annoyed at the prospect that it had taken Sam less than five seconds to come up with a good suggestion for a job. While Steve had been fretting ever since he knew his trip back to New York had been booked two months ago. Of course the psychologist would come up with something in a heartbeat. He saw everything openly and clearly from all angles, and made it seem so simple. 

“Consider it.” Sam stepped out on the crossing as the man turned green. “We don’t have to talk about that tonight. Didn’t we agree no dull talk during the moments we go out drinking? Steve rude, you should have stopped me.” Sam snorted and smacked Steve on his shoulder. Steve didn’t respond to that. 

The rest of the walk to Shepherds, Sam updated Steve on how the bars they used to frequent were doing. Which ones had shut and which ones switched owners and which had gotten rid of the chef that never washed their hands, only to be replaced by the chef that made the most amazing sandwiches. It was of course, followed by Steve making Sam promise he’d take him on a tour of them all so Steve could have the glory of trying out the sandwiches himself.

Steve in return told Sam about the last news he had heard from the Howling Commandos, Steve’s unit from back in the army, and together they reminisced their glory days. It made them forget about the biting cold that raced through the streets, and not remember it was a thing until they reached Shepherds. They went down the stairs slowly however, gripping the freezing railing to avoid slipping on the ice. It didn’t go that elegantly.

The bar was relatively empty. There was chatter, and only half of the tables were filled with people. A handful of people sat by the counter and for once the music was clearly audible over the amount of voices. Either the rush hadn’t started or it wouldn’t happen. It was after all a Tuesday, and most people wouldn’t go out for a drink then, Steve supposed.

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear behind you.” Sam paused in the entrance of the bar, smacking his hand over his shoulder to hit Steve and grab his attention. Steve was about to protest that he wasn’t the devil, but then looked to what Sam was pointing out in the middle of the bar. A table, with a red haired woman sitting with her back turned to them. Still, she was difficult to miss. “Isn’t that one of his friends? Natasha or something, I want to recognize that jacket.” 

Steve hummed in response. Natasha was talking to a much younger woman in front of her. Black hair tied behind her head and a scowl on her face while she nursed a beer. Steve didn’t recognize her. “It’s like learning a new word isn’t it?” Steve muttered, pressing his hand on Sam’s shoulder to set him moving to the bar. He looked at him, confused. “When you learn a new word, suddenly you can’t help but hear it wherever you go?” 

“Oh.” Sam reached up to the bar counter, raised two fingers to the man working to signal that two beers would do and looked back to Natasha. “I suppose so. Hey you didn’t happen to get her number did you?” 

“No, go get it yourself.” Steve told Sam, thanked the barkeep and accepted the beer bottle. Sam looked at him with a raised eyebrow, took his own beer without even looking at the barkeep and took a swig. Steve didn’t have to ask what he was thinking, nor did he need Sam to respond. He knew that look, it was challenge accepted. 

Sure enough, rather than talking to Steve he left the bar counter and strided over to Natasha and the unknown woman with five quick, confident steps that made him seem like he was cruising in the formula one. Steve sighed, rolled his eyes and followed suit. He knew Sam, and he knew that once the man started to flirt with women it was best to follow suit or risk being left alone for the entire evening. He didn’t want to just sit around and wait for the others to turn up. 

But as it turned out, Natasha had one quick way of turning Sam down. She had a sort of mysterious smile on her, as if she was flattered with Sam’s preposition that Steve just had missed, but didn’t quite know how to turn him out. The young woman looked completely disinterested and stared up to Sam. “I’m married.” 

“Really, just my luck.” Sam huffed in defeat. “Nice seeing you again though, you come here often? Hi I’m Sam.” He extended a hand for the young woman, who perked up a little bit at the attention, shook his hand and told him that her name was Kate. 

“For this month. We circulate bars. Hi Steve.” Natasha shrugged, then smirked to Steve when she noticed him. “People have to forget about Clint first once he pisses them off, the way he rips people off it’s a wonder he doesn’t get kicked out of them sooner.” 

“Well he does win fair and square. It’s just that he’s obnoxious about it, and no one believes the circus youth story so they all think he’s cheating.” Kate shrugged and finished her beer, bringing it down to the table with a little bit of a slam. 

“Wait, so what’s the deal with this circus story? He actually did grow up in a circus?” Sam asked, Natasha nodded and closed her lips over the straw of her drink. “I thought that was just a story he was pulling out of his ass.” Kate gestured with her hand to Sam, as if to say _here you go Clint_ , if he had been sitting with them around the table. Steve had a feeling that he had some very good friends who were willing to put up with that. 

“Yeah, him and his brother both. Tiboldt Circus.” Natasha stirred her drink. “That crime circus? He left before he ever got involved with that. Learned a lot of tricks there, you should see him juggle. Just throw whatever you have at him and he’ll juggle. Pretty neat tricks actually, whenever he’s not pissing off people.” 

Sam looked to Steve, who had difficulty reading his expression. In the end Steve settled with that Sam was just questioning the legitimacy of Natasha’s story, but both women seemed to be genuine in the tale and the annoyance that said circus and Clint had brought with them. So Steve felt no need to call them out on anything. If something, he believed them both. 

“So Steve.” Natasha interrupted his train of thought. He looked down to her. “Bucky told me you two have been texting.” She sipped of the drink again, making Steve uncertain if it was meant as a question or as a statement. For a quick instant he was relieved that Natasha was married (even if she didn’t seem the type) and had thus been able to turn Sam down. It would have been awkward if she hadn’t, found him interesting and lord knew actually became a lasting thing. He wasn’t quite certain he wanted to face Bucky after the disaster he thought of their texting history. 

Okay, it wasn’t that bad, Steve knew. And he was overreacting a little bit. Still, he had never liked being in awkward situations and truly, who did? So to be saved of it was something he’d be her eternally grateful for. “Yeah, I mean, sort of?” Steve raised his shoulders. “We haven’t spoken these past few days I uhh. I don’t think he’s that interested if I’m going to be honest. He… doesn’t really respond.” 

Natasha frowned at that, as if she hadn’t been expecting the answer and took a moment to truly consider what he said. She straightened her back and came across as elegant. Kate remained slumped together, chin in her hand as she looked up to both Sam and Steve, bored. “Well, that’s a shame.” Natasha gave him an odd sort of smile. “Have a good evening Steve. I hope to see you again sometime.” 

“Yeah. You too. Nice meeting you Kate.” Steve raised his hand slightly to her, pressing his side against Sam to set him moving and was glad to be released from the whole situation. Sam seemed to take the hint and went to the back of the bar, sliding into the booth that was right underneath the signed poster of a rockstar that Steve after all these years still didn’t know who he was, and everyone refused to tell him because they could. 

-

“ _I thought you said you were interested in Steve?_ ” Natasha’s voice echoed through the phone with no mercy, leaving no doubt to Bucky as to why she had called him in the first place. Dozed from his nap he put his phone on his chest and rubbed his eyes, then picked it up again and placed it back against his ear just when she started calling out his name. 

“I’m here, was just rubbing my eyes.” That felt like evasion of something. So he sighed again and sank down deeper against the pillow and shut his eyes again. Anya had been sleeping in his lap when he had dozed, but she seemed to have moved away now. 

“ _I thought you said you were interested in Steve?_ ” Natasha repeated, using the same tone as before. Bucky fought the urge to sigh in response and just hang up. He wasn’t in the mood for one of those phone calls right now. 

“I am.” Bucky shifted a little bit, grimacing as he realised just how sore the muscles in his back were and kicked off the blanket from his legs. The draft instantly made it to cold. “Why?”

“ _He’s at Shepherds, he doesn’t seem to be having the impression that you are. He says you don’t really respond to him._ ”

 _Shit_ , Bucky couldn’t help but think, he shut his eyes again and could almost feel his other hand pressed against his eyes and forehead as he tilted it back. Grimacing at the news she was unloading on him. “It’s complicated Nat.” He whined and removed the imaginary hand. 

“ _How is it complicated? James you were smitten by him. You told me. You were so happy about that kissing face and that you had his number._ ” Bucky heard someone laugh beside her, heard Natasha mutter a response to them and then focused back to him. “ _So tell me, how it is complicated, it’s just talking, hell it’s not even that. It’s texting. That’s even easier, you’ve never had an issue with that. So tell me, why is it with Steve? Did you find out he wants to crack an egg open on you during sex or some other deal breaker?_ ” 

Despite feeling annoyed at Natasha for prying, he couldn’t help but chuckle at the way she phrased her question. It also made him wonder if she ever had met someone who had wanted to crack an egg open on her. He didn’t delve further into it, he had met his own fair share of weirdos. Grindr was a nest for them. “No deal breaker.” A straight answer and no excuses, just like Natasha liked it. 

“ _Then why did you stop James? I know it’s not my concern but you sounded really happy when you told me. And now I find out you’re not chasing this? You deserve a bit of happiness you know._ ”

Bucky wasn’t certain how to respond to that. And the worst part was that Natasha waited silently on the other end of the line. Bucky sighed again and sat up on the couch, rolled his shoulders and stood up. “Listen, what do you want me to say? I got cold feet, I don’t have my groove anymore like I used to alright?” Bucky huffed. “I just… I figured… he’s a really nice guy Nat, I swear. He was attentive, nice, funny, flirted in a not creepy way and all that jazz and I was just… I was blue and I just thought that he deserves someone better. So I fucked up, and I gave him shitty replies. He stopped texting and I was an idiot and didn’t reach out to him. And I can’t text him now because then I seem like a right idiot. So there you go, that’s the fucking story alright?” 

Natasha remained silent on her end of the line. Bucky could imagine the pout of her lips, he could envision her in front of him at that table in Shepherds, arms crossed on the table and leaning forward, hair past her shoulders, a thoughtful expression. He heard her sigh. “ _Listen._ ” Natasha began, her voice softer now and god damn it. Upon hearing it Bucky felt how his edges began to fray, he felt how his throat tighten uncomfortably and he felt his eyes water and he felt the anger race through him for getting like this again. “ _You listening?_ ” Natasha asked again, she must have heard something, some noise that had escaped him that hinted away at how he felt. 

“Yeah.” Bucky sniffed and took a deep but shaky breath. “Yeah I’m listening.” He forced himself to move, to leave the spot in the living room where he had grown roots, and forced himself to the kitchen to get a glass of water. 

“ _Okay. You messed up. And you know what James? That’s okay. You’ve been through a lot, you’ve had a shit year and you’re out of practice and you’re not quite right yet. That is okay to. I know it’s hard, and that is something you need to learn to accept as well. I know you want to wake up one morning and miraculously be okay. I know you want to wake up and feel that weight lifted of your shoulders and chest and be able to breathe and not feel like you’re drowning. You don’t say it, but I know you James and I can see it. And you need to learn to not beat yourself up over it, you need to understand that sometimes it’s okay to take a few steps backwards, that it doesn’t always have to go forward. And I understand that you feel like an idiot, and that you feel like you messed up your only shot here. But listen to what I’m going to say here, alright?_ ” 

Natasha fell quiet, and it took Bucky longer than he was willing to admit to realise she was speaking to him. He took another breath, now in the kitchen and sat down on one of the chairs available. “Okay.” He said weakly, hating himself for sounding like that. Loving for Natasha for giving him such a monologue when he truly needed it. 

“ _I think, you still have a shot here. You say it yourself. Steve is a nice person. And he is! From what we all saw the other week, he’s got a heart of gold. And yours is weighing you down. How about you come down here, offer an apology for having responded to him the way you did. And explain the matter to him. Explain that you’re having not just a rough patch, but a truly, shitty patch where the devil himself might be after your ass. And I think he will understand._ ”

Bucky snorted, feeling slightly better after Natasha’s monologue, even if he still felt frayed. At least he wasn’t falling apart at the seams anymore. Any sob that was about to leave him had been halted, nursed and taken apart by her gentle tone. He was feeling drowsy now, and thought of the first few months when Natasha had spent many nights with him, stroking her fingers through his hair and whispering to him that all would be alright again while he was crying and mourning the loss of a part of himself. 

“I think that if I unload all of that on him, he’ll truly balk.” Bucky said on a soft tone, following the pattern on the kitchen tiles with his eyes. “People don’t really take well to hearing all that sort of shit when they barely know someone.” Bucky could practically feel Natasha roll her eyes. 

“ _I swear, this is all some toxic masculinity right there._ ” She hummed with a deep sigh. He heard a laughter beside her, or in front. Near Natasha. And he recognized it as Kate’s. “ _Steve is not like anyone else James, I know it, and you know it. If something I think he’ll appreciate being told the truth. He seems to be like the sort of guy who likes all cards on the table turned upwards, so he knows exactly where he has people. So I think that he will appreciate hearing that. That he’ll appreciate your honesty. And he might give it another shot, and he might not. But no matter what he chooses to do, you’ve unburdened yourself. And you’ll feel better._ ”

“I’ll feel better because I’ll be given something else to moan about.” Bucky chuckled. Natasha snorted. 

“ _Anyway. That’s my suggestion. Do what you feel best about James. But I ask you to at least consider it, yeah?_ ” 

Bucky didn’t respond at first. He thought over his options, he thought over what Natasha just had told him and he thought of how he would feel in the future debating on what he did. He tried to imagine how he would feel after all choices he made. “Keep him there for me please? I’m going to come over I just… need to shower and not look like a fucking hobo.” 

“ _No._ ” Natasha’s answer came quick and curt, it caught Bucky a bit of guard. “ _Listen, I know what you’re trying to do. And I’m glad you’re coming over to talk to him. But I’m not going to go over there and tell him not to leave because you’re coming. But, he just got here with his friend, they’re still on their first beers and I think there might be other people coming they’re waiting for. So if you hurry, you should just be fine._ ” 

“Fine.” Bucky grunted, sounding annoyed and angered. He got up from the chair and instantly felt guilty of how he had snapped at Natasha. “Thank you. I’ll try to hurry.” He said softer, hanging up before she got any chance to respond. It wasn’t that he meant to cut her off, it was just that he wanted to make time. He quickly filled a glass of water and drank it in one go, left it in the sink and went for a shower. 

It had to have been the fastest shower he had taken in his life. Bucky wasted no time in relaxing under the warm water, and the moment he had managed to rinse all the shampoo out of his hair and the bodywash of him, he stepped out and dried himself. He still was damp by the time he was pulling the first clothes he found on. It consisted of nothing else but a fresh pair of grey tracksuit bottoms and a t-shirt of a Rise Against tour they had done a few years prior. 

He bounced back into the bathroom and blew dried his hair, regretting it almost instantly as it fluffed up to an almost ridiculous extent. He grumbled to himself, having no Nat with him to help him tie it back so he settled for a cap, twisting it front to back in a weak attempt to flatten it back. At least this way he could drag his hair back a bit and look somewhat decent. 

He snatched his wallet, cigarettes and keys from the kitchen, stuffed his phone in his pocket and grabbed his leather jacket from the hallway while stepping into his sneakers. Bucky wasn’t sure how much time he had spent getting ready, but it felt like any minute to long was to long. He was in such a hurry to leave, that once halfway down the stairs he had to backtrack just to lock his door. 

Once out on the sidewalk outdoors, it seemed like everyone and their grandmother accompanied by their nasty chihuahua was attempting to go somewhere. Bucky twisted his way in between people as well as he could manage, and tried to tell himself that he didn’t have to hurry as much as he did. That he didn’t want to turn up all red faced, out of breath and already in need of a new shower and _fuck_ he had lost his stamina. 

Smoking hadn’t helped either, and when Bucky reached Shepherds, he tossed put out his half finished cigarette and went down the stairs. He didn’t have to search much to see Natasha sitting with Kate at a table, in deep conversation. He walked over to them, finally allowing himself a slower pace. And when he reached up to the table she looked at him in surprise. “You’re already here?” She questioned him. “I called you like half an hour ago.” 

“Yes well, I decided not to waste much more time.” Bucky muttered annoyed in response, looking around in the bar to see if he could spot Steve. Sure enough, he saw him sitting with Sam, Wanda and a young man he couldn’t recognize. “Don’t say it.” He warned Natasha before mentally pulling himself up by his imagined collar. Natasha only smirked. 

“Go get him tiger.” Natasha muttered and Bucky flipped her off. He heard Kate laugh. 

The words almost seemed to jinx him, and now with his eyes on Steve it suddenly felt harder to take every step necessary to reach up to Steve. But he kept thinking of Natasha’s words, and looked forward the feeling that he would gain after confessing, after apologising. And he wanted to be free of his guilt, he wanted Steve to think of him in a positive light. 

And that Bucky supposed, was what made him reach up to the table where Steve sat with his friends. He cleared his throat, attempting to gain their attention, and when all four pairs of eyes looked up to him he felt out of place, he felt scrutinized and he gave a nervous smile. “Hi.” He stammered out, hating himself for sounding like a twelve-year-old boy.

“Hey.” Steve seemed surprised to see him, Sam just took a swig of his beer and looked over to Wanda, who seemed confused. The young man in between them just seemed lost and didn’t say anything, waiting for the sudden tense situation to be explained to him. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” 

“I wasn’t… planning on coming.” Bucky hissed after, realising now how it made him sound like a stalker. “Listen.” He started, trying to salvage what was left in between them. When had he ever gotten this shy? He couldn’t ever recall being shy. “Can I uhh, talk to you for a bit? Alone?” He asked, tucking his hand in the pocket of his jacket and raised both his shoulders. Shit he even sounded disgustingly hopeful. 

Steve looked at him with those blue eyes, considering the offer and Bucky was relieved not to see any malice, or any anger. If something all he could make out from looking at the other was that he was just curious, along with a tad bit confused. 

The heart of gold as Natasha had called him, nodded. And a weight lifted of his shoulders. “Yeah, sure. We can go sit over there.” Steve nodded over to a booth further away from his friends. Bucky nodded, feeling how his heart had started to hammer in his chest. 

“I’ll get us some beers.” Bucky stepped back, allowing Steve to excuse himself to his friends in privacy and went to the counter. Ignoring the look that Natasha shot him as he passed by her. He order two beers, paid for them and grabbed them both around the necks of the bottles, going over to the booth that Steve had pointed out. 

Steve hadn’t come over yet. So Bucky slid into the seat with his back turned to him and put the bottles on the table. He didn’t need nor want to see how Steve was making his leave from his friend. The nerves were itching under his nails, and he scratched his neck. He suddenly felt warm at the thought that Steve’s friends perhaps would talk him out of speaking with him, and he shrugged out of his leather jacket. 

Bucky sipped of his beer and shut his eyes. Taking the few seconds he had left on his own by trying to decide on how to phrase himself. What to say and what to keep for himself. But by the time that Steve sat down in front of him all that he had decided was tossed straight out of his mind and Bucky was speechless. 

Steve gave an odd sort of smile, one that told Bucky he wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing here, and why he was going through with it in the first place. “Nat called me and told me you were here.” Bucky swallowed, his throat felt thick and he wasn’t certain why he began like this. “And she gave me an earful of sorts.”

Steve hummed, placing both of his hands around the beer bottle that Bucky had bought for him and god why couldn’t he look up and face those blue eyes. “She made me realise some things, at least for today. And spoke some sense into me. And.. my point is… what I’m trying to say is that I’m sorry.” Bucky bit the bullet and looked up to Steve, who just looked more confused. 

“She told me that you thought I wasn’t interested in you. And… and I want you to know that I am. I really am. But I am also a complete fucking idiot, and I didn’t show that. I know I should have responded to your texts better. I know I should have put effort into it, in being sociable and not just… respond with fine. That is my mistake, one hundred percent.” Bucky admitted, still keeping his eyes on Steve who now seemed less confused, and just listened to what Bucky had to say. 

Bucky licked his lips, when had they gotten dry? “I just… and i know this doesn’t justify anything. But I have doubts. Not in you, please don’t think that it’s you. But I’ve got a lot of doubts in me. And I get blue at times Steve, so fucking blue and I just… I thought of how much I liked you and I thought of what sort of fucking mess I was and… and I convinced myself that I wasn’t worth it. That I didn’t deserve someone like you. And I just… That’s why my texts sucked.” Bucky was surprised in himself that he had managed to keep himself stable, that he hadn’t gotten choked up like he had feared he would. 

“I’m an unstable mess. I try to function. But it’s not easy, I’ve been through hell and back since-” Bucky gestured over his shoulder rather than say it out loud. Steve bit on his lower lip. “And… I understand if that fuck up is one where you draw the line. If that’s the case then I accept that and I’ll back off. I just… I just felt that I owed you an apology, and an explanation. And I hope that you can forgive me for having acted like a five year old kid and that if there is an opportunity for a second chance, that you’ll let me have it.” 

Bucky finished his little speech, and kept his eyes on Steve. Watched his gaze flickered to the side and how he cleared his throat. How he drank from his beer and how his adam's apple moved moved on his throat. He found himself sucking on his lower lip in anticipation. 

“First of all.” Steve began. “I appreciate the apology, and I accept it.” Bucky felt how his heart in his chest eased up on the hammering, but he still felt every beat against his ribs. “And secondly, I appreciate the explanation. I appreciate honesty.” Steve smiled, and Bucky relaxed. He was certain that it was visible as Steve chuckled at the sight of him. Steve seemed to lighthearted about the whole ordeal, even if Bucky felt that he had just poured out a pile of steaming emotions on someone he essentially didn’t know that well. 

“I didn’t think anything of you, not less or not more, because I didn’t know what was going on at your end. That’s why I went ahead and assumed you weren’t interested. But now I understand that it’s something you clearly struggle with at times. And I am willing to try this again. I like you Bucky, we hit off well with one another. But I am going to ask you for one thing though.” Steve raised one finger, Bucky nodded, suddenly freezing when he had been boiling moments earlier. 

“I understand that there might be a lot that you still want to keep to yourself. But in order for this to work. I’m going to need some level of honesty. If you’re feeling blue, and it affects when we communicate, tell me. So I know where I have you. You don’t have to tell me why, or what for, you don’t have to open up to that extent. Just let me know, okay?” Steve sounded so sweet, so genuine when he said that, that Bucky almost felt his heart crack. He felt the desire to look down, and to burst out in tears at such a revelation, such a kindness and god he was such a bleeding open sap ever since he had lost his arm and he absolutely fucking hated it. 

“Okay.” Bucky said, voice strained and did his best to smile to Steve. “Yeah, I can do that.” He promised Steve, even if he wasn’t certain he could. He couldn’t with Natasha, Clint or Scott. But they had the benefit of having known him for several years. They could tell when he was about to get angry before Bucky himself even knew. 

“I’ll tell you what.” Steve shifted a bit in the booth. “Seeing we’re clearly working on the whole talking over the phone, and it works well when we’re actually sitting face to face. How about we just… go out together? You and me, not Shepherds and no friends in town. What do you think?”

“Like.” Bucky shifted in his seat, trying not to seem to hopeful. “A date?” He bit his lower lip and god, that smile that came across Steve, radiating happiness and sunshine that probably helped the flowers grow through the concrete. It was beautiful, and Bucky felt something flutter in his stomach. 

“Yeah. Like a date, what do you think? Neutral ground for the pair of us. We can just, relax and get to know one another, how about that?” And by god if Steve wasn’t the one that sounded hopeful now. Bucky giggled, nodding eagerly. 

“Yeah, Yeah I’d like that. A date sounds nice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is already in the works, and will feature the boys a whooole lot more. Hope you all enjoyed reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the boys are on a date, have a good time and anxiety comes knocking.

“Have you ever actually been on a date?” Natasha brushed Bucky’s hair back, gently and cleared out the knots with that little round magic brush she had brought. She had been ecstatic at the idea to come over and help him get ready for the date, and had turned up with two bags that contained all the mystery items that women seemed to use to get ready. He had stared at her when she had come into his apartment and she had just laughed at him before pushing her way past him. 

The tangle Teezer as Natasha called it, was bright pink with a childish dap of neon blue around the edge, and he had judged it immensely. Once out of the shower, his hair dried and sitting in his underwear he had allowed her to tackle his hair and it felt like the gods themselves were brushing through it. He had promised himself then and there that he would get one himself, it would be by far easier to use for his hair than any other hairbrush he had laying around. 

He frowned a little bit as he thought over what to answer to Natasha. And tried to remember if he ever truly had been on a date. “I don’t think so. I mean, hookups don’t count for this do they?” He asked, Natasha hummed behind him and held his hair behind his head in her hand, she reached for something out of her black toiletry bag and pulled out a hair tie. Hookups he had enough off, those he couldn’t even count anymore. 

“No, they don’t. Ponytail? Bun? A braid? Pigtails?” Natasha waited for Bucky, who snorted at the mention of pigtails. That’d be a sight. All the self respect he liked to think that he had might as well instantly be tossed out of the window. 

“Bun.” He settled with. “Then no, I don’t think I’ve ever been on a date. At least not like this.” Bucky paused, looking at the music video that was being played on VH1 while Natasha tied his hair up in a bun. It seemed to take longer, and it made him wonder if she did it in a different, more intrecrate way than otherwise, not that he could see how that even was possible, a bun was a bun. 

“Are you nervous?” Natasha snaked her arms around his neck and hugged him, resting her chin on his shoulder while she pulled him back against her. Bucky didn’t protest, and allowed himself to come to rest against Natasha and now able to look up to her as she straightened up. He took her hand. 

“Maybe? Should I be? I’m a thirty-four year old who’s never been on a date.” He scoffed and stretched out his legs. “And here I am getting ready for it like I’m a fourteen year old. That’s a bit sad isn’t it?” Bucky laughed. 

“No, Sad would have been if you spent the day in bed and then just rolled out five minutes before you had to go, didn’t bother to change or to look nice.” She poked him in his side and made Bucky jerk away. “Okay. Come on.” She patted his arm and Bucky sat up again. “I took the liberty to put together some outfits for you.” 

Natasha squirmed of the couch and Bucky came to rest against it again while she went to the bedroom. She returned with her arms filled of clothes and dumped them on the edge of the couch. “Jesus, I’m not going to do a fashion show if that’s what you’re thinking.” Bucky commented, Natasha barely reacted to him and pulled out two pairs of jeans from the pile. One black pair, and the other grey washed. 

“Bucky, you asked for my help and thus, we are doing this correctly.” Natasha kept holding up his jeans. Bucky rolled his eyes and sat back up again. 

“I’m beginning to regret this already.” He teased lovingly, propped his arm up against the back of the couch and rested his balled fist against his jaw. Then he nodded over to the pair she was holding in her left hand. “Grey washed. The black ones seem stiff and to neat. I’m not that neat.” 

Natasha snorted and tossed the grey washed pair over to him and the black ones on the arm chair, where she would make the eliminated pile Bucky presumed. He pulled on the jeans, while he was comfortable enough to sit in his boxers alone in front of Natasha, it was getting a little bit cold and the heat from the warm shower was starting to leave him. 

“Right. T-shirt, Long sleeves or a shirt?” Natasha asked, hands into the pile of clothes again, tossing some shirts already to the elimination pile. Bucky just assumed she had decided they would only go with the black jeans. 

“T-shirt. I want to wear one of the hoodies you fixed for me and don’t want to deal with the lump.” Bucky got off the couch, pulled his jeans on fully and sat back down again, buttoning them. “You don’t have any socks in that pile do you? My feet are cold.” A pair of socks hit him in his head. 

“Right. Two options.” Natasha straightened up again. “Do we want to show that you go out a lot to shows, have fun that way.” Natasha held a concert t-shirt against herself of Placebo, a time he couldn’t place. He thought it was a little bit funny how it came down to her mid thighs. “Or, do we go for fashion, and just look a little nicer?” She switched the shirt to a black one, silver intricate details of thorns going in the empty eye sockets of the skull. 

“Does it really matter that much?” Bucky asked, instantly realising that he shouldn’t have asked the question when Natasha stared at him. Amused he reached out for the shirts. “Placebo will do.” He settled for, pulled his arm through one of the sleeves and next pulled it over his head. 

Natasha offered him two sweatshirts, both of thin material and with a zipper. Both having the left sleeve removed and neatly sewn together by her. In the end Bucky opted for the black one of the pair. She tossed it straight to his face, and returned the rested of the clothes to the bedroom. “Where the hell do you keep your necklaces and shit?!” Natasha called out as he pulled on the hoodie, leaving the zipper down. 

“The box on the floor by the mirror.” Bucky adjusted the hoodie by his shoulder, making sure that it sat snugly and comfortably. Natasha came back with a shoebox in her hands, the lid left behind in the bedroom. 

“Jesus you have more necklaces than I do.” Natasha joined him back on the couch and set down the box in between them, rummaging through it. 

“I’ve been collecting since I was thirteen give me a break.” Bucky joined her in the search, making the decision for her and pulled out a black thread, tied at into it was a small (and most likely fake) shark tooth. He hadn’t cared, he had loved it anyway. “This one.” He ended the hunt quickly and pulled it over his head. Natasha hummed approvingly, then pulled up a bracelet, squinted at it and looked at Bucky’s hand as if she was trying to decide if it would be to much. In the end she dropped it back in the box and pulled out the leather wristband and gestured for Bucky to extend his arm. 

He did, and she tied the wristband around his arm. “You look good. Really James.” Natasha smirked to him and patted him on his cheek. “Now if you only would have a shave?” She opted. Bucky snorted and shook his head in response. 

“If there’s anything, I rather like having a beard now.” Bucky brushed his fingers through the bristle strands and leant back against the back of the couch now. He bit on his lower lip, then looked at Natasha. “Is cologne overkill for a first date? It’s overkill isn’t it?” James grimaced a little bit. 

Natasha leaned in, placing both of her hands on his cheeks and looked him straight in his eyes. “James.” She began slowly. “The key to a successful date, I don't care what anyone says, is to smell nice. Cologne, makes you smell nice.” She patted his cheek and let Bucky go, allowing him to bounce of the couch and head into his bedroom himself now. “Use that one you got in the tax free when we came back from Bali!”

Bucky made sure to grab the bottle that she was talking about, deep purple and sprayed a little of it in his neck, rubbed it into his skin with the back of his hand and gave himself a lookover in the mirror. Save for the longer hair and the beard, he almost looked like he had once upon a time. He was slimmer, which he found odd considering his healthy eating habits had gone down the drain, but he also ate less. 

It gave him a warm feeling, to actually look at his mirror image and realise that he liked the way he was looking. That the sight didn’t fill him with dread strong enough to have him heaving over the toilet. It struck him, that he almost looked normal, he missed arm sure, but if he turned to his side there was no hint that there was anything wrong with him. 

There was practically a skip in his step when he returned to the living room, spinning around for Natasha to admire him. “Well? What do you think?” He asked her, grin wide. Natasha smirked and raised her hand, forming a simple O with her index finger and thumb. 

“If I was a man and into men, I would want to go out with you.” She said, Bucky snickered and felt a surge of enthusiasm come through him. He was feeling attractive for once, fresh, prided himself in how he looked and confident. He had almost forgotten how that felt like. And to think that for most of his life he had walked up and down streets with that feeling in his spine. Entered and left bars, clubs, played music in front of people with it. To be stripped of that had been like walking around naked. 

“Speaking of.” Bucky joined her back in the couch and put the box with necklaces and bracelets on the table. “I spoke to Sam some when I joined them. He said that he wanted to ask you out, but that you said you were married.” Bucky looked at Natasha in concern. And she acted just like he had expected her to do. 

Her jaw stiffened and she looked away from him. Instantly she began clearing the living room table of all her items and put them back in their respective bags. He wanted to sigh, wanted to roll his eyes. But he couldn’t back out on her like that, not when she had helped him as much as she had. “Why did you tell him that? I mean… Nik’s…-” Bucky halted himself, not sure how to proceed. 

Turned out that he didn’t have to, Natasha raised her hand to stop him and all the words he was considering to say died in his throat. He swallowed thickly. She took a breath, collected herself and then began to speak. “James, I appreciate the concern. But I mourn my loss my way, just as you mourn your loss your way, okay?” She gave him a thin lipped, weak smile. Struggling to keep her composure, struggling to keep up the strong facade she always carried with her. 

Strong Natasha, who didn’t want anyone else to see her in her weaker moments, who kept those times to herself, locked behind a steel door. Bucky didn’t argue, there was no point to it. He didn’t want to force anything out of her. So he just nodded. “Okay.” He said simply, looking to the television to indicate he had already dropped the subject. Natasha continued to tidy the table, and disappeared into the kitchen with their two glasses. The tap began to run. 

“When were you supposed to meet up?” She asked, and in expectation that time had gone by like a flash Bucky reached for the remote to open the channel info. He groaned when he realised he still had another half hour left before he would have to go. 

“We said we’d meet up at seven. Some Chinese place a bit away from here. He picked it, never been there before.” Bucky changed the channel on the television, flicking through them all and found that absolutely nothing was interesting enough for his focus to last that half hour that remained. In the end he sighed and shut of the television. 

“So what, you just going to go out for dinner or are there more plans? Do you want water?” 

“Yeah sure.” Bucky responded to her, fingers resting in his neck as he watched the doorway, waiting for her to appear. “And I don’t know, maybe? He said he’d text me the details and he did, so I’m assuming he planned the whole thing and I didn’t want to come and butt in on that you know? Maybe we’ll go out for drinks after.” 

Natasha appeared in the doorway, two clean glasses of water in her hands and suddenly looked excited, Bucky rolled his eyes at her and reached for the glass. “If we go out for drinks, I will make sure it’s not Shepherds, and I’ll make sure you don’t know where it is as well. I swear at times I think you’ve installed a tracker in my phone.”

Natasha snorted, sat down in the armchair and put her feet up on his living room table. “What makes you think I haven’t?” She smirked at him, one eyebrow slightly raised as she looked at him over the rim of her glass. 

“Okay that is creepy I’m going to smash my phone when you’re not looking and get a burner.” Bucky sounded serious as he spoke, but Natasha only smirked in response and knew that he was teasing her. Although he wouldn’t put it beyond her to actually put a tracker on his phone if she was worried enough. Occupational hazard Bucky presumed. 

“I’m always looking.” She winked, Bucky fought the urge to sigh in response, but just wound up smirking.

-

Steve had been waiting outside the restaurant for the past five minutes. He had been early, so he hadn’t thought much of it. Instead he had buttoned his coat and pulled his shoulders up in an attempt to stay warm, allowing himself to daydream for a moment. The sky had grown dark, and all that lit up the street were the streetlights, the wide variety of signs and windows.

An abundance of Christmas decorations already hung out despite that it was only a week away from December. Steve didn’t mind that, he had always been a fan of Christmas so for all he cared, people could start decorating the moment that people could begin to buy the items. All he asked was that they waited a little bit longer with playing the songs on the radio. 

But with the terror of technology, and never being sure if you missed a notification or not, Steve took out his phone to see if he had gotten a text from Bucky to say that he was going to be late. No such thing, and one more minute before the clock turned seven. He tucked his phone back again, and thought that texting him had been a serious difference ever since Bucky had come and offered the apology. 

Now Steve got the feeling that Bucky truly was trying. There had been one day where Bucky hadn’t felt so good, and Steve had been able to tell just by the texts alone. Sure enough, a few texts in Bucky kept by his word and said that he wasn’t feeling good that day, so they had left the conversation at that and Steve had given him some space. 

And thus, it felt like an weight of pressure seemed to have lifted of BUcky’s shoulders. He still seemed uncertain at time, but seemed more cheerful. He apologized a lot still, and Steve had to repeatedly tell him that it was okay. That he had done nothing wrong. But it seemed to be difficult for Bucky to wrap his head around. Although he seemed to be aware of it, as there had been a handful of situations where Bucky had apologised for apologising so much.

Steve felt good about interacting with Bucky, he liked the other, found him funny in a crude way. He was handsome to look at, with an air of mystery around him that went hand in hand with the _fuck all_ attitude that let Bucky do whatever he wanted without batting an eye about it. Even if there were insecurities about his arm. Steve hadn’t actually dared to ask, he hadn’t been certain on when would be the right moment to do so. 

It hadn’t felt right over text, it seemed to personal. And now Steve doubted that it was a topic that was brought up on the first date. Hell, he wasn’t even certain it was something that Bucky wanted to talk about, or be asked? Maybe it was a forbidden topic, one that he wanted to deny for all eternity. So Steve had decided that while the curiosity was burning within him to ask what had happened, that he wouldn’t until the time felt right. If it ever would feel right. 

Steve looked down the road, to the direction which he guessed that Bucky would be coming from, and only saw a bunch of people he didn’t recognize. He sighed, and saw how his breath turned into a fog of white as it went up in the sky. 

He waited for an additional two minutes for Bucky to appear, just as his feet started to grow cold from the frozen ground. He pushed himself away from the wall and grinned widely to Bucky, who walked past a woman in a business suit, talking on her cellphone and walking on an excruciatingly slow pace. “Hey.” Steve said, throwing his arm around Bucky to pull him into a hug and felt how the other patted his back. “You look really good.” He admired Bucky, looking him up and down as he took in the others outfit. Grey Washed jeans, t-shirt, unzipped hoodie and a black jeans jacket, he had even put up his hair and wore a dark blue and black palestine scarf around his neck. 

“Is that your kind way of saying that I look like a hobo otherwise?” Bucky winked to him as he let go of Steve, and Steve stammered. Unprepared for the comment that Bucky had dropped and wasn’t certain what to say that would salvage the situation. Bucky burst out laughing and patted him on his arm. “I’m fucking with you. I know I look like a hobo more than half of the time, and yes, I actually showered today, thank you for asking with your eyes.” 

Steve huffed, amused still at how Bucky had gotten him caught of guard like that and swatted at him. Bucky laughed again and by gods it was an adorable sound. It occured now that Steve hadn’t heard it before. When they had met the first evening Bucky had snorted at most, having seemed with his head stuck somewhere else. When he had come to apologise, he had bid his goodbye after, saying that he didn’t want to intrude on Steve and his friends. So to hear him laugh was positively warming. Especially when Bucky’s words echoed through Steve’s head, the confession that he could get so fucking blue at times. And it made him wonder if it was a rarity for Bucky to laugh. 

There was a glint in Bucky’s eyes, one that made Steve think of a mischievous little five year old. And that smirk of him, like he had expected the very reaction that Steve had given him. In the end Bucky called an end to his little game and patted Steve on his arm again. “Come on let’s go inside before you trip some more over your words.” 

Steve pushed the door open to the restaurant and Bucky stepped inside and jesus, there even seemed to be a Spring in his step. They waited by the entrance to be seated, being brought to a table against the wall just across the bar. The restaurant was just over half filled, so Steve was glad that he had called ahead and booked them a table. He had a suspicion that the other tables would be filled up before long. 

They sat down, and both shrugged out of their jackets while having a look around the restaurant. “I’ve never actually been here before.” Bucky admitted and tugged at the palestine scarf around his neck, tugging it loose and draped it over the back of his chair. “I’ve walked past it a lot of times before, never tried it.” 

“Honestly I’m just happy you like Chinese food.” Steve told Bucky, thanking the young man who handed them their menus and quietly went on his way again to find a different task. Bucky placed his down on the table and hummed a little bit. 

“I mean, who doesn’t like Chinese food?” Bucky questioned with a soft chuckle. “And to be honest I’m quite happy you picked Chinese. Means I can eat with Chopsticks and not make a fool out of myself.” 

Steve couldn’t help but chuckle a little bit at that. “To be honest, that’s half the reason why I went with Chinese.” He admitted, blurting it out before he thought about it. Bucky looked up, eyes wide and surprised. 

“Yeah?” He asked, having seemingly forgotten about the menu and given up for the moment to try and find something to eat. Steve nodded, cleared his throat and hoped that he wouldn’t come across as some asshole. 

“Yeah I mean…” Steve shifted uncomfortably in his chair, how did you even begin to explain this matter without coming across as insensitive. He felt as if he was standing in front of hot coals and he was barefooted, the road to success lit aflame. “A steakhouse or something would have been a pretty dick move of me you know? Anything that involves… a fork and a knife? I figured that if it was an Asian place then at least we could suck with eating with chopsticks together?”

The glint in Bucky’s eyes was back, not the same mischievous way, but a softer look. Kind and giddy, as if he had liked what Steve just had said and he felt himself relaxing a little bit. “I appreciate that.” Bucky looked back to the menu and continued. “Actually, there’s this little thing, called a knork. And it’s a fork with a ribbed side so you can also use it as a knife at the same time. Except the one they gave me to use was this big, fucking ugly red thing made out of plastic that more made it seem like I was an overgrown toddler that didn’t know how to eat, the only thing that was missing was a bib. I hate that thing.” Bucky seemed to settle on what he wanted from the menu and shut it. Making Steve realise he hadn’t even given it a proper look. 

And now he wasn’t certain if he could laugh at what Bucky had told him, or if he best kept a stone serious expression. “It’s okay, you can laugh. A knork is a stupid fucking thing.” Bucky snickered a little bit, but seemed to be a tad bit more nervous as he spoke, and Steve wanted to kick himself over it.

“I’m sorry.” Steve said. “I just… I don’t know if it’s okay to joke about or not, you know?” Steve hoped that he didn’t sound to insensitive, prayed even if he had never been a religious man. Bucky gave a one sided shrug. “And I don’t really… want to say the wrong thing here.” 

“It’s a delicate dance. I get it.” Bucky gave a thin lipped smile. “So, I’m just going to crack the ice on that matter and be honest. Frankly, if I can talk about it changes day by day, and the more you’ll get to know me the more you’ll get a feel for that as well. Today, we can talk some about it, joke some like I just did. But at the same time, I don’t want it to be prime focus so… how about. You just ignore any comments I may drop about it, take them light to heart, if I drop them then most of the time I can take a jab or two. So let’s just… ignore the full focus on it and kind off…-” Bucky waved with his hand, having difficulty with what he tried to say.” 

“Less focus on the lack of arm and more focus that a knork is a stupid ugly thing?” Steve attempted to fill in. Bucky snapped with his fingers and pointed to Steve. He was grinning again, and Steve felt like the coals he had ignited were put out with water. 

“Exactly, because a knork is a stupid ugly thing.” Bucky chuckled. “And with Chopsticks I can come across as somewhat civilised. Not that it’s saying much.” 

“And here I was hoping that you wouldn’t be all that great at Chopsticks, now I’ll sit here looking like an idiot.” Steve joked. “I’ve never eaten with chopsticks before. Always had comfort in the fact that there’s forks readily available.” Bucky stared at him. “What?”

“Are you telling me you’ve never eaten with chopsticks before?” He asked. Steve nodded, and there was that mischievous glint back in his eyes. 

“You’re going to make me regret I ever confessed that to you aren’t you?” Steve smirked, looking down to the menu to finally get a move on what he wanted to eat. He heard Bucky admit that yes, yes he was. Steve let him have that little moment, opted for safe over sorry when it came to food and shut the menu, placing it on top of Bucky’s and at the edge of the table to catch the interest of their waiter. “So…” 

Bucky raised his shoulders again, biting a bit on his lower lip. Then he let out a fit of a giggle. “I suppose this is where my confession is coming up now. Even out your lack of chopstick use and all that.” He gestured a bit with his hand. “I’ve never been on a date before, so I honest to god have no idea what’s supposed to happen this evening. Besides that we order food and eat.” 

“Well.” Steve crossed his arms and leant in over the table. For some reason he took uttermost glee in knowing that he was the first person Bucky ever had an official date with. And he wanted to make sure that his evening would be fantastic. “This is the part, which we’ve already covered a little bit through texting, where we get to know one another a little bit better. So tell something I didn’t already know.” 

Steve had to wait for his answer, as the young man came by and picked up the menus, magiced out a phone to take the orders from and proceeded to ask if they were ready to order. Bucky ordered a beer and Kung Pao Chicken, while Steve settled with a beer himself and Sweet & Sour Pork. The kid tapped it all in on the phone and left them to it. Bucky was resting his chin in his hand and looked up to the ceiling as he seemed to decide on what to say. “Like, something in general or something about me?” He teased, and god that smile of his was infectious, spreading like wildfire. Steve couldn’t help but chuckle and shake his head at the other. 

“Okay, I am the oldest of four. I have three sisters. We’re all born and raised here. Although it’s just me and my oldest sister who still live here. My parents have moved down to Florida, claiming they want to enjoy their retired years there, but in reality my father just has a weird fascination with alligators. My mother doesn’t know that’s why he suggested Florida.” Bucky chuckled. “Uhmm… I don’t know. I’m bad at these sort of things? My favourite colour is dark green? And I honestly live of Chinese food from the place across the street and that’s why I’m an expert at Chopsticks. And this is where you realise I’m about as bland as flour.” 

The boy already arrived with their beers, they thanked the kid and Steve raised his drink to Bucky. “That wasn’t to bad. Come on, cheers to a good evening.” He encouraged. Bucky shook his head a little but took his beer and clanged the glass against Steve’s. He seemed flushed, and Steve wondered if it was because he had to talk about himself. “Alright your turn.” 

“Alright.” Steve shifted a little bit in his seat, and didn’t wait as long as Bucky had before speaking up again. “I’m an only child. I never met my father, he died before I was born in Grenada during the invasion. Which kind of was shitty luck considering there only were like nineteen casualties on our side. My mother passed when I was just out of High School, lost and confused and not sure what to do I went and joined the Army with Sam. Made that my little home for a while. I came back, I now got a useless degree in art but I love it anyway. I’ve kind of been searching for a place in the world. Have yet to find it, so I’ve been all over doing various projects, the latest being that non religious school and hospital, currently out of a job and trying to find something, but don’t really know what, although I’ve been given a shove in the direction of becoming an art teacher, and I’m starting to like that idea. My favourite colour is Navy, and I could eat Spaghetti Carbonara every damn day and die as a happy man.”

“Yeah this is not fair you’re by far better at this than I am.” Bucky snorted. “Sorry to hear about your mom and dad.” Steve made a gesture with his hand, attempting to say such is life with it. He smiled though to make sure that Bucky knew he hadn’t thread on a sore topic. “I thought of joining the army once upon a time actually. In the end I didn’t because I realised that I wouldn’t be able to focus at all with a bunch of fit guys around me so I kind of… saved the world by not joining the army.” 

“I’m sure you would have done a great job.” Steve winked to him, and Bucky flushed. “So uhm, what do you do instead? For a living I mean” Bucky had just drunk from his beer and licked his lips clean. 

“Uh, at the moment nothing really? I’m kind of home on disability insurance for now. I can’t really work, aches and shit, and just generally lacking a limb.” Bucky gestured by his shoulder, Steve nodded. He had heard of those so called phantom pains, and he found it fascinating that a human being was able to feel pain in a body part they didn’t have anymore. Though he felt almost positive that Bucky didn’t see it in the same interesting sort of light. “Before that I was in a cover band actually. Together with Clint and Scott, we used to play on small events and parties and stuff. But yeah, I can’t really anymore and we lost our singer so.” 

“Should have pegged you for a music artists, considering the blatant admitting to playing wonderwall in the school corridors.” Steve mused. Bucky snickered, nodding eagerly, and Steve could tell the underlying burning passion that was shifting around under his skin. There was something about the way that he looked at Steve, so remarkably similar to a little child finding a grown up that actually was interested in what they were doing. “That’s cool you play anything else besides guitar then or? Seeing you… can’t anymore.”

“I did everything really.” Bucky stroked a thumb over his jaw. “I mean in the band I played Guitar, that’s the first instrument I’ve ever touched. But I can play passable bass and drums. A bit of Piano, I learned the clarinet to annoy my sister when she annoyed me.” Bucky laughed, Steve couldn’t help but join queue, imagining a younger Bucky blaring away on a clarinet in a bedroom facing a wall, pestering a sister as she was trying to do homework in the other room. “I can sing pretty decently too.” 

“You ever wrote any songs yourself?” Steve took the passion for music as an opening, as Bucky seemed to relax when he spoke about it. He did not expect however, for Bucky to be capable of talking about music for an hour straight, almost without pausing. The passion for it was overwhelming, and Steve didn’t want to change the topic either as he saw how Bucky lit up while reminiscing shows he had been to and shows he had performed on, discussing songs and deciding the best hits of an era. 

Instead, Steve just listened. Enthralled by the other man who spoke with such ease.

-

As it turned out, Steve truly did not know how to eat with Chopsticks. After having laughed at his miserable attempts for a minute, Bucky took it upon himself to show Steve how to hold them properly, and how to eat with them. Steve had gotten flustered in the attempt, but near the end of their meal he was eating with some level of ease and comfort in his movements.

Steve told Bucky about his time in the army and what sort of art he prefered to make. Bucky once realising that Steve might not want to listen to him going on about music for the duration of the date, ended up telling Steve about where he had gone to school, and found that while growing up they hadn’t lived that far away from one another. Steve in turn told Bucky of how he had met his friends over a shared fried banana with ice cream for dessert, and by the time they were leaving the restaurant Bucky was telling him of his own traveling that he had done, which consisted mostly of every country in South East and East Asia. 

“I can’t believe it. How does one visit Japan for an entire month, and not once try Sushi?” Steve questioned as the door fell shut behind them. Bucky chuckled and placed a cigarette against his lips. 

“I was to busy buying yakitori at every damn streetcorner Steve, don’t judge, it was amazing.” Bucky turned his back to the slight breeze, attempted to flicker his lighter and lit the cigarette against all odds. He was certain that Steve wouldn’t mind helping him, but he wanted to keep that option for last. 

“Yes but. You’re in Japan, for a month, and you’re telling me you didn’t eat sushi. Not once.” Steve seemed flabbergasted at the idea. Bucky just smirked and raised his shoulders. 

“Guess I was saving it for some other time.” Bucky winked at him, letting the hint slip out of him before he stopped himself. Steve rolled his eyes, but judging by the amused smile he was only messing around. Bucky kicked at an imaginary piece of rock, glanced to his feet and then back up to Steve. “So…” 

“So…” Steve repeated, balancing on his heels and struggled just as much as Bucky in regards of what to say. It made him feel a little bit better about the situation. Dinner had gone well, he thought. They had laughed, the topics had been balanced out evenly if one didn’t take into account when he had started talking about music and had been unable to stop himself. There hadn’t been any awkward silences, there had been some flirtatious moments dropped in between the pair of them, leaving Bucky unable of sitting still in his seat with a butterflies in his stomach sort of feel and god was he happy that Natasha hadn’t been there to witness it, she would never let him live it down. And neither would Clint. 

“I really enjoyed dinner.” Bucky blurted out, then shut his eyes and took a breath. “Shit, that makes it sounds like it’s over for tonight doesn’t it? Is it?” He was beginning to regret on not taking any pointers from Natasha. All he had taken from her before leaving his apartment had been that smelling nice was the key. Well, a nice cologne wasn’t saving him now. 

“I don’t know.” Steve raised his shoulders a bit. “It’s only nine thirty, it doesn’t have to be over if we don’t want it to be. The night is still young, and this city never sleeps, isn’t that what they say about New York?” 

“Yeah, I guess they do.” Bucky bit on his lower lip a little bit, his helpful statement having brought them nowhere. “Uhh, we could go get a drink? I suppose we could catch a movie, can’t really talk them uhm-” Bucky cut himself off, glancing up to the dark sky as he thought over other options that were nearby. “We could… probably find a Starbucks nearby and watch as the hipsters try to stay until the very last second before closing and then having to scramble to leave. We could… go bowling?” 

“For a guy who’s never been on a date before you sure do have a lot of ideas.” Steve joked. “But you know what, I’ve never bowling. There’s one actually a few blocks down from here and to the left, we could go there and try that? I think those places tend to stay open until like midnight or something. Beats going to a bar, not that there’s anything wrong with bars but-” 

“Steve.” Bucky halted Steve’s monologue, smirking up to him. Steve looked bashful, but pleased and happy with himself. “Let’s go bowling.” Bucky tossed the remains of his cigarette away and offered his hand for Steve to take. He looked at it, stunned at first as if he was being offered a relic that would make Indiana Jones jealous, but then with an adorable smile, accepted the offer and took his hand. 

“Lead the way, and besides, this gives you a chance to one up me with Chopsticks, I haven’t been bowling in ages, and I will most likely need to use the inflatable kiddie side lane things that they have. To make sure that the ball doesn’t go down the drain and they at least hit one pin to make them feel better.”

“Now I’m sure you won’t be that bad. If you’ve bowled before then I’m sure that you will manage just fine now.” Steve bumped his shoulder into Bucky a little bit as he began to lead them down the street. Bucky snorted. 

“Fun fact Stevie.” Bucky began, glancing sideways to Steve to judge his reaction. “Bowling requires a sense of balance yeah?” Steve nodded, and just looking at him doing so made Bucky think of a golden retriever with perked ears, listening to whatever the human was saying. “Losing eight pounds on one side of your body kind of shifts your centre of gravity and balance a little bit. And it takes quite a while to figure that out. Hell, I haven’t really figured it out yet.” 

Bucky frowned, wondering if he would be crossing a line. But the story was burning at the tip of his tongue, wanting to burst out. And by the way that Steve looked at him, Bucky had a feeling that Steve had figured that out as well, and seemed to bide his time to see if he would share the story or not. So he took a breath, nursing such thoughts and memories to oneself, especially bad ones, did no one any good. Eventually it would fester and spread, he had learned that better than anyone. And he had also learned that when a story was on his tongue, that it begged to be told, a plague could infect someone in the morning and have them dead come evening. Bucky saw it as the same when he had tales, they needed to be set free, or he’d risk having the plague infect his mind, and everyone around him. 

He tried to tell himself, remind himself that Steve had appreciate honesty. But at what point was there a line between honesty and just to much black misery? It was a fine balance, and so far Bucky had managed to balance it. But his centre of gravity had shifted, and at some point he would fall. And he’d never know it until it was to late. 

“I used to dance a lot. Back before, me and Nat and the others, we used to go clubbing a lot. You know, disco, techno, strobe lights, jumping around to a beat and all that? After the uhh, well, Nat and I were dancing once in her apartment. And at some point I… I don’t really know what happened, I misstepped or something like that. Just a small step, but it threw all of me off and we fell. Well, more correctly I fell and I dragged her down with me. So my point is, bowling will kind of be, figuring out where my balance is supposed to go and all that shit. I don’t have a left arm to wave around anymore to even out my weight, you know?” 

Steve was silent, eyes squinting just slightly as he took in what Bucky had said. So he sucked on his lower lip, waiting for Steve to digest what bomb he just had dropped, wondering if he ought to say something to ease the mood, change a topic. “You know.” Steve squeezed his hand. “I never really thought about it like that. Shows how much I know. It’s hard to imagine, I try, but jesus. I suppose you’re never really aware of how much you need something until you don’t have it anymore.” 

Bucky felt positively warmer at hearing Steve’s train of thought, and squeezed his hand n return to signal that he understood. There had been so many adaptations that he had made to his life that he had lost count. So many small, miniscule ways that his life had changed, overshadowed by the big and glaring obvious sign. And no one really thought about the small things until he pointed them out. His friends did, they had been there for him through everything, they knew. But sharing these miniscule things with someone who was essentially just a stranger, who was someone he was only growing to know, was terrifying. It made him feel once more like he was walking on a thin wire over a canyon gap with a blizzard doing everything in its power to knock him down. 

“So I suppose it’s a good thing I’ve never bowled either, I have no idea how it works. It looks easy enough but I’m sure there’s a knack to it that I don’t know. So how about, we do two games, one with the kiddie inflatable things whatever it is that you’re trying to explain to me but I’ll take your word for it. Both get our sense of game on and how to actually play the game. And one proper, yeah?” 

Bucky looked at Steve, with only one thought echoing through his mind. _Mother fucking Teresa_. 

“You alright there? You look like you’re getting a little bit lost?” Steve teased, flirted? Bucky wasn’t entirely sure, there hung something in the air, hot and heavy and it could not be anything in Brooklyn. No, it was stuck and woven in between them. 

“Uhm.” He stammered, feeling his cheeks warm up at the statement of Steve, the flirtatious line. Yes, it definitely was meant flirtatious, it wasn’t a tease, or maybe it was both. But it wasn’t humour for the sake of humour and the late November cold and breeze had nothing against the warmth that was coiling in his chest, against the fluttering feeling in his stomach and had he suddenly lost his knees? It felt like that. 

“I just… I really appreciate all of that Steve. I… jesus. It just. It means a lot, that you put that much thought into it I mean. And you manage to do it without being obnoxious about it. You just… do it, without question. You think about it and you do it and you make careful assessments of yourself like chopsticks and, and shit. I just know that a lot of people wouldn’t, you know? Or would care to much, if that makes sense?” 

“It does.” Steve admitted, they crossed the street. “I like to think my mother raised a polite man.” 

“Fuck me, when I die I will personally go tell her that she sure as hell did.” Buck whistled. He didn’t believe in any god or heaven, but for that reason alone he would begin to pray every morning, noon and evening if it meant he could go and tell the woman himself in the afterlife. “And like, we’ve met on three occasions now, two of which were quite lengthy, we’ve talked about all sorts of things, we’ve talked about… the lack of arm whenever I’ve brought it up, But you haven’t asked. And that’s usually the second or third question I get these days.”

“Well. Steve turned them down the street, Bucky figured they were reaching the bowling hall now. “I just figure that it’s nothing fun to talk about for you. So while I’m curious yes, I thought it wasn’t my place to ask of you, to recount such a… I don’t know, troubling? Memory? So I figured, you’ll probably tell me when you want me to know, and that I shouldn’t go and dig graves that aren’t in my own graveyard you know?”

_Mother, fucking, Teresa_. 

“Thank you.” Bucky said softly, looking in awe at Steve and having trouble comprehending, truly understanding what Steve told him. He had heard that before, but usually that was followed up by people who felt that he owed them the story just because they hadn’t asked. With Steve, he didn’t get that feeling at all. 

“Oh look, laser bowling Friday evenings starting ten. That sounds like fun doesn’t it?” Steve pointed at the poster while they reached the bowling hall, looking at Bucky with such a bright smile and happy blue eyes. No, Steve didn’t think that Bucky owed him the story at all.

-

It turned out that after one game with rails (there hadn’t been any inflatable things like Bucky had said), that they both utterly sucked at bowling. And so it was decided to play another game with the rails as the neon colours dashed all over the lanes, the floor and the people. They could just barely make out each other in the dark, and they both blamed it for their lack of skills.

Beers were swapped out with umbrella drinks as they were half off. Disgustingly sweet and hiding any trace of alcohol in them, it got both men rather cheerful and giggly throughout the remains of the evening. 

They would have played the night through, had it not been that the bowling hall shut and wouldn’t let them pay for another game. Slightly disgruntled but still pleased with their evening, they made their leave amongst some teenagers and college students dressed entirely in sweatpants and sweatshirts. 

Out on the street Steve offered to walk Bucky home, and he accepted by taking Steve’s hand again. During the walk Steve told Bucky some more tales about his trip to Africa, and how it had felt weird adapting back into the lifestyle of New York even if it had been all he had known in his youth. And Bucky listened attentively, dropping comments in between and asking questions. He found it clear that Steve had enjoyed his time away in Africa helping people, and was half of a mind to text Clint once he got back in that he hadn’t been half wrong with his assessment about Steve, a cross between Hercules and Mother Teresa. Were there any good souls left on earth now when Steve had clearly absorbed all that was good in this world?

They reached Bucky’s apartment building after a ten minute walk, and Bucky turned to face him but also made sure he still held the others hand. He nodded over his shoulder to the apartment. “Guess this is me.” He said, shuffling with his feet now. He had gotten through the hurdle of a date, now he had encountered a new one that meant ending it. “I had a lot of fun tonight Steve. I really did, tonight has been fun.” 

“Do you want to do this again sometime maybe?” Steve asked, moving a tad bit closer to Bucky and closed the space in between them. Bucky looked up to those blue eyes, and for an instant wondered what he would have done a year ago. He would have invited Steve in, for sure. And there would have been to much clothing suddenly, something they would have to remedy. FUnny how things changed. 

“Yeah. I’d really like that actually.” Bucky whispered, unable of tearing his eyes away from Steve. Was that decided now? Unanimously? When and where, spike out the details or was there just a general decision to meet up and then together they’d form out a more solid plan over the course of the week. 

“Great!” Steve exclaimed, seeming adorably happy at the idea. Bucky smirked a little bit at him and Steve seemed to catch himself in the act of being fourteen. He laughed, and his cheeks darkened ever so slightly. Bucky made sure not to comment on it, but instead took in the sight in front of him however long that it would last. “I’ll uhh, text you this week? And we can work something out?” 

Bucky nodded, biting down on his lower lip to prevent himself from grinning out like a madman. Jesus, what did one say? Bucky felt like he was the core of awkward silences now, all he could do was just stare at Steve like he was some creep. But Steve didn’t seem to mind.

Instead, it was Steve who leant forward, gently brushing their lips against one another in a soft kiss. It was everything that Bucky wanted, and at the same time it was everything he didn’t. The warmth in his chest was still there, relishing at the kiss and the attention that he got. But at the same time it felt like a bucket of cold water had been dunked over him and he suddenly woke up, the panic surged through him and like a small bolt of electricity, he jolted his lips away from Steve, took half a fumbling step back and looked to the ground. 

“Uhm.” He muttered, absolutely dumbfounded and scratched himself in his neck. Except he wasn’t, he could see that his hand was still holding Steve’s and yet he had felt the scrape of fingernails in his neck. He didn’t dare to match Steve’s gaze, and Steve let go of Bucky’s hand as if he had burned him. 

“Was that to far?” Steve asked him. And Bucky’s body betrayed him by nodding while every fibre of his body screamed _no_. But he had never been a good liar on that, perhaps that was why, his body spoke for him. And the kiss had been… intimidating, which frustrated Bucky because it had just been that. A kiss, a simple brush against his lips that hadn’t even searched for more, for something deeper and… and he looked at Steve’s eyes and he knew that his brain was feeding him one thing. His brain was telling him that Steve was disappointed, and the worst part was that he believed it. 

“Yeah, I’m sorry I’m-” Bucky began, now he could move his hand up to his temple, cover his eyes and hide away in momentarily embarrassment. He trailed his hand over his head and at that instant hated that he had put his hair up in a bun. Why hadn’t he allowed it to be loose so he could trail his fingers through it and tug at it in moments like these when it was necessary? 

“Hey.” Steve raised a hand up and halted him. There was a thin lipped smile. Right, of course. Not only disappointed, but angry, frustrated and thought lesser of him. There wouldn’t be a second date now, Bucky realized, just fucking great. Finally meet a guy, make two mistakes in the span of two weeks, and drive him away, great fucking job James. “It’s okay.” Steve patted him on his arm, Bucky bit on his lower lip and nodded rapidly, only he didn’t believe it. “I’ll call you, and we’ll figure something out alright?” 

Bucky nodded again, and allowed himself to be pulled into a hug by Steve, he shut his eyes and hugged him tightly, taking in the others scent and thought of Natasha again. The key of succeeding a date is smelling nice. Well, it seemed like he could butch even that. Or maybe the scent he had chosen was one that Steve didn’t like, that had to be it. Steve patted his back and Bucky stepped away, breaking himself out of a hug he didn’t want to break in the first place. 

“I had a great time as well tonight Bucky.” Steve squeezed his shoulder. “I’ll talk to you soon, you have a good night alright?” And there was the last time he would ever see that smile again, turning away from him and continuing up the street, leaving Bucky standing alone. He watched Steve’s back for one second. Two seconds, and wondered if he should call out for him and explain the situation. Three seconds, no, he would only look like an idiot while doing so, crazy. Four, Steve looked both ways, and then darted across the street even if the man was on red lights, and Bucky imagined it was the last time he’d ever see his profile. 

Five, he turned to his apartment and pressed in the code to the door, allowing himself in. He darted up the stairs to the apartment, unlocked the door and by the time he was inside, he felt out of breath and dizzy. Since when had his heart started to hammer like that against his ribs? 

Bucky was overreacting, he tried to tell himself, trying to take several deep breaths over his short and shallow ones. He struggled out of his jeans jacket, and out of the hoodie. It had gotten inexplicably warm all of a sudden. He heard Anya meow from the living room, and the soft padding of her paws as she came over to greet him by rubbing all over his legs. 

This had happened before, one small thing and suddenly in a panic he had read the entire situation wrong. Natasha telling him over and over that he was being irrational and to calm down. But the nagging thought at the back of his head wouldn’t leave him be. What if this time, he had read the situation exactly as it was? 

He was overcome by the sudden urge to call Steve, to explain it to him and to salvage the situation. Steve appreciated honesty right? Wasn’t that what he had said? So if Bucky called him and Steve didn’t pick up, then he would know right? He reached for his phone out of his jeans, but paused. But what if he called and Steve didn’t hear it on his walk back to his apartment? Then what? Then he would spend an excruciating amount of time waiting to see if Steve would return his call or not. 

He pressed the middle button and his screen lit up. He had one text. Natasha’s name was at the top of the bubble, and inside showed her text, asking him how the date had gone. A fit of hysteric giggles came over him. Fucking A Natasha, fucking A. 

Bucky sat down on the floor, back against the door and Anya plopped down in between his legs, resting against him and started purring again. Bucky pressed the button on his phone again, his screen lit up once more. Barely a minute had passed. He pressed the phone against his temple. He shut his eyes, and for the next couple of minutes focused on just calming down his breathing. On making his heart beat less hard in his chest and against his ribs, it had started to hurt. And every minute that passed he looked at his phone, keeping track of time. By the time that fifteen minutes had passed his breathing had calmed down enough, but his chest still hurt. 

Still, it took all of his effort to find Steve’s number in his phone. And even more to press the button to actually call him. Not to mention the work it took to place the phone against his ear. And by every dial tone it felt like his heart sank even deeper. So he watched how Anya pawed at his jeans, purring to herself with no care in the world. 

It took five dial tones for Steve to answer, and he sounded out of breath. “ _Bucky?_ ” At least he didn’t sound angry, so that was something. Bucky took a breath and shut his eyes, imagining the pressure of his thumb and index finger against them and why did his mind play tricks on him when he was like this. He needed comfort now if something, he didn’t need to be reminded about it. “ _Everything alright?_ ” 

“Yeah I’m uhh. Am I, am I calling at a bad time or something?” Bucky asked, still keeping his eyes pressed shut and tried so desperately to focus on the purring of Anya, and scoured Steve’s voice for any emotional hints. 

“ _No I was just getting ready for bed. Just got in. Is everything alright?_ ” Steve asked, and bless him he sounded worried. No Steve, the situation wasn’t alright now, but he didn’t need to unload all of that on him now. Honesty was appreciated, but best handed in small doses 

“I just, I wanted to apologise.” Bucky licked his lips, dry. He hadn’t even noticed when that had happened. “I… I didn’t mean to be so off putting when you kissed me, I swear. I’m sorry. I should have… I don’t know.” He whined, thumping his head against the door behind him. “What I’m trying to say is, I’m sorry, for making you stop.”

Steve was silent on the other end of the line, making Bucky doubt that he had heard him in the first place. He was just about to ask him if he was still there when Steve cleared his throat. “ _Bucky, there’s nothing to apologise for._ ” And he sounded so soft, so genuine that Bucky tried to take those words to his core, and break them apart and grind them into seeds to sow into his doubts and panic that had come to steer his life. 

“ _If there’s someone that should apologise, it should be me probably. I went ahead and I kissed you without knowing if you would be alright with it. And clearly you weren’t and that is my mistake, not yours. You did nothing wrong, you just told me you weren’t at that stage yet and that is okay._ ”

“I know Steve I know it’s just…” Bucky stumbled over his words again, muttering a curse under his breath. “It’s just… well. You said you liked honesty right, talking about things that are on my mind so you know where you have me yeah?” Bucky asked, Steve hummed in his ear. “I think… no, I know. I haven’t… I haven’t been with anyone since the whole thing you know? I’m still in a state of figuring myself out all over again, remember?”

“ _I remember._ ” Steve said softly. Bucky bit down hard on his lower lip, forcing himself to slow down. The words were all fighting to come out first, and he needed them to make sense. Both for his own sake and for Steve, who had to hear them. 

“And I suppose that also kind of applies, to how I am with other people? In relationships I mean? And hell, I’ve never really done the whole dating thing before, I can count all boyfriends I’ve ever had on one hand. I used to hook up a lot, but that doesn’t exactly give you many skills in this. My point is… I’m learning. And I guess I kind of, need to take things slow? And I’m sorry if I upset you by calling off the kiss and all that stuff.” The line was silent again. 

“ _Bucky, I’m going to say this one more time alright? And I want you to listen to me._ ” Steve said, Bucky hummed to show that he was, his stomach started to feel cold. “ _You do not have to apologise, you drew a line as to where you are and what you feel ready for. And I am sorry I didn’t know that line before I kissed you, and I want you to know that I will respect your space. And we’ll cross those bridges when we’re there, okay? You don’t have to feel pressure Bucky. You are a person and you’ve got your own right to that space. In fact, I’m glad you showed me where you drew the line rather than keep it to yourself._ ” 

“Jesus.” Bucky muttered, but he found it funny, how hearing Steve saying those words had eased the pain in his chest. How his fingertips felt less twitchy and how tired he felt all of a sudden. “Thank you Steve.”

“ _Don’t beat yourself up about it, you hear me? You did the right thing Bucky. Now take a breath for crying out loud, you seem like you’re doing tryouts for freediving._ ” Steve laughed in the line, and Bucky couldn’t help but join, feeling how the tension left his shoulders. 

“Free diving?” Bucky questioned, there was an itch on his nose now, so he pressed his phone against his shoulder and scratched the tip of his nose. 

“ _Yeah, that’s just diving without any oxygen and trying to stay under as long as possible. I think the record was like twenty minutes or something but I don’t know the exact details so I could be terribly wrong and be lying to you right now._ ”

“Jesus, and they didn’t die? Fuck I don’t think I can hold my breath for more than thirty seconds.” 

“ _I suppose it’s not exactly a sport for smokers and asthmatics._ ” Steve joked. Bucky snorted a little bit. “ _Do you feel better now?_ ” 

“Yeah, Yeah I do Steve. Thanks.” Bucky looked at Anya, his chest didn’t hurt anymore. His breathing had all but gone back to normal and the itch under his skin seemed to have settled. If something, he just felt tired and wanted nothing more but to fall into his bed. He bit back the apology for having called him, something gave Bucky the feeling that Steve wouldn’t have it. “I think I’m going to get ready to head to bed now.” Bucky admitted, and by that he just meant struggling out of his jeans and crawl under his duvet. 

“ _That sounds like a good idea. I’m about ready to collapse myself. I’m not sure I’ll be able to get up from the couch now if I’m going to be honest._ ” Steve chuckled a little bit. “ _I’ll call you again tomorrow yeah? And we can look a how our week will look in order to meet up again. Deal?_ ” 

“Yeah, that’s a deal.” Bucky agreed, forcing himself to stand up much to the protest of Anya. “Good night Steve, and thank you again for tonight. It was a lot of fun.”

“ _It was a lot of fun, we should do laser bowling again sometime. Maybe I’ll practice in secret to kick your ass next time._ ”

“Oh so that’s how it’s going to be, one game against me and you decide you want to fight a cripple huh?” Bucky teased, hanging up his jeans jacket, then tugged at the hoodie where Anya had relocated herself to. She meowed in protest but got off anyhow. 

“ _Ha! You got that right._ ” Steve seemed to move of his couch as well, getting a move on to go to his own bed. “ _Good night Bucky._ ”

“Good night Steve.” Bucky hung up, staring at his phone screen in the hallway. Then he opened the text that Natasha had sent him and wrote back. 

The date had been absolutely wonderful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again thanks for reading! The next chapter we'll see a bit more of Clint, the boys being cute, and starting a bit of a habit.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which we get to meet Clint a bit more, Lucky goes into an Ikea bag, Steve and Bucky share a few kisses, and Bucky shows Steve a hoarders music collection and feels things as a result.

Lucky barged into the apartment like he owned the place, and for as far as Bucky was concerned he did. 

Anya didn’t appreciate the sudden noise, the tapping of dog claws against the floorboards and the way that Lucky launched himself over the living room table, jumped onto the couch and landed onto Bucky’s chest, immediately attacking him with licks while multitasking as he wagged his tail (entire behind) and attempted to remain on the couch. Anya’s back arched at the sight, she hissed and then dashed off the couch herself, racing to hide under the bed in the bedroom. 

Always having been a fan of dogs, Bucky only laughed at the sudden enthusiasm and threw his arm around the dog, pulling him in for a hug and digging his nose in the dogs fur. Lucky whimpered in excitement, only trying to crawl closer against Bucky and flipped over on his side. Showing his belly for Bucky to pet while his tail drummed against Bucky’s leg. 

“One would think you two haven’t seen each other for over a year.” Clint’s voice echoed over Bucky’s whimpering and whining, and Bucky proceeded to ignore his friend. He did it on purpose, mostly because he knew that while Clint loved being the centre of attention, he always gave it up for his dog. So if the dog was being showered in kisses, scratches, pets and being repeatedly asked who was the good boy ( _You are, the goodest of bois_ ), then Clint let it happen without beating an eye.

Clint dropped the bag on the floor next to the television stand, and dropped the basket right on top of it. The sudden noise made Lucky stop his charade for attention, and he looked at the source of the noise with his ears peaked. Once he settled it wasn’t an intruder, he went right back at it and Bucky laughed again. 

“He actually doesn’t even get this happy to see me when I get back in from work you know?” Clint commented after a couple of minutes. Lucky proceeded to calm down, and while he was still laying against Bucky, he had stopped with the frantic attempts to get his head under Bucky’s hand, and now just pawed at him to signal that he should continue the petting. 

“That’s because he knows he gets to sleep on the bed here.” Bucky mused, pressing a kiss on the top of Lucky’s head. He shifted a bit on Bucky, sliding more in between the back of the couch and Bucky’s side and came to rest, he yawned, stretched out his front legs and settled. 

“You know, I wouldn’t be surprised.” Clint snorted, shaking his head a little bit. “We’ll be back again on Tuesday, I brought enough food for him to last, you know how the drill goes.” Clint waved a little bit with his hand, and for the first time since Clint’s arrival, Bucky looked at him by tilting his head back. 

“We know, we’ll be fine. Thanks for letting me watch him.” Bucky proceeded to give Lucky a light scratch behind his ear, and he imagined that if a dog could purr, that Lucky would. Instead he made small, grunting noises that reminded Bucky a bit off a pig. 

“Are you kidding me? You’re our go to dog sitter, we couldn’t trust Lucky with anyone else. Well, we could, but we’d feel like we’re cheating on you and that wouldn’t be right.” Clint stretched out and looked with a pleased smile to Lucky. “We know he’s best off here. And besides, he does you good so it’s win win really.” 

“He does do me good.” Bucky agreed and looked to Lucky again. He had always wanted a dog. Still he loved Anya with all his heart, a present from Clint and Natasha which he was certain had some hidden plan behind it. But at heart he was a dog boy, and he had only postponed getting a dog because of Anya and the lack of space in his apartment. She wasn’t fond of Lucky and his energetic behaviour the first few days, but always warmed back up to him come the ending of Lucky’s stay.

“Mm, he’s not the only thing that does you good so to seem.” Clint grinned a little bit. “A little red bird, told me she helped you get ready for a date this Saturday man, and that you’re going out again today, why didn’t you tell me?” Clint feigned disappointment, pouting for dramatics. Bucky rolled his eyes. 

“Because if I told you, you would have told everyone that we know that I was back in the game before I had even gone on the date you dickhead. With Natasha I could at least trust that she wouldn’t tell anyone until I told her I hadn’t gotten drugged and woken up in a tub missing a kidney, and that it actually was a success.” Bucky pointed out to Clint, who looked as if he was about to protest but then seemed to realise what Bucky truly had said. 

“Yeah you’re probably right.” He admitted. “Still, I’m happy for you, I really am.” Bucky looked at Clint, judged him, waited an additional couple of seconds for a smartass comment. Instead all he saw on Clint was a small genuine smile, a happy one. Not entirely unlike the one he had worn when he had gotten married if one had striped the lovesick puppy look out of his eyes. And Bucky realised that his friend truly had meant it, with no comments lined up to take the serious lid off. No, for once what Clint had said was all that he wanted to say. 

“Thank you.” Bucky couldn’t help but smile, and looked down to Lucky. “I thought that Lucky here, could come along today and be a judge of character hmm?” Bucky stopped scratching behind Lucky’s ear and the dog whined. “Give him the trail through fire as we hike through central park for the special W.” Bucky refrained from using the magic word called walkies, not wanting to risk getting trampled under the dog. They didn’t have to leave just yet. 

“Nothing like a dog telling you if a person is worth it. I knew I had to ask Laura to marry her by just watching how she was around him you know?” Clint began, not waiting for Bucky to stop him in case he already had heard the story. Bucky hadn’t, so he let Clint continue anyway. All he had known was that Laura hadn’t been happy when Clint had blown their savings on vet bills for a dog that had gotten beaten together and probably wouldn’t make it when she was pregnant with their second child and they desperately needed the extra cash. 

“She was pissed when I carried him home after the surgeries and all, out of surgeries and woozy and a broken leg and missing an eye and not eating. Said he wouldn’t make it through the night and all that, that the money could have gone to a deposit on a new apartment for when Lila was born.” Clint placed his fingers against his lips and looked to Lucky with an affectionate smile. The dog had begun to snore. 

“I spent the night on the couch then in the living room, not because she had put me there but to be right next to Lucky in case he needed something. I woke up to her kneeling beside him, all puffy because seven months pregnant and it was just, really warm that summer and getting him to drink water, while gently stroking his back to encourage him and whispering to him. She told me that she wanted to make sure that he was okay. A week later he was a lot better, and she had changed her mind from the dog doesn’t get up on the couch to, _Lucky come up here._ And there he was, laying in my spot on the couch with his head tucked against the side of her belly, and her fingers brushing through his fur.” 

“That’s actually really sweet.” Bucky told Clint, who raised his shoulders a little bit while still keeping his fingers on his lips. 

“Lila loves that tale.” Clint admitted, then leaned forward in the armchair and got a better look over the two of them on the couch. “So, get a good look at how this fella is with a dog, how Lucky accepts him and if all goes well, ask him to marry you on the spot. And let me know, I need to get a new suit for best man tasks and all that.” Bucky chuckled. 

“What makes you think you’ll be my best man? I just might ask Scott instead.” Bucky teased, Clint’s mouth dropped open as if he couldn’t believe the words that had just tumbled out of Bucky’s mouth. Before deciding not to chase that rabbit just yet. “But I promise to let you know how he’s with Lucky.” 

“It’s that Steve guy we met a couple of weeks ago right?” Clint asked, Bucky nodded and saw how his friend pouted again. Nodding a select couple of times. “Hey, if I was into men I’d go for him as well. Definitely if I woke up one day as a woman.” Clint stretched out and leant back in the arm chair. 

“To late.” Bucky mused to Clint, who just rolled his eyes in response. “You looking forward to going to West Virginia again?” Bucky asked, keen to steer the conversation into a different direction that didn’t involve him and Steve. Here he had been, trying to keep everything on the low and hidden away from his friends until at least he felt he had something solid to tell them. Clint barked out a laugh, startling Lucky awake again. 

“Are you kidding me? When have I ever been happy about going down to West Virginia?” Clint rested his hands behind his head. “It’s just the week out thank god. I’m telling you, the time we actually have to spend Christmas over at her mother’s, we will commit family suicide. At least it makes me feel better that Laura’s even less willing to go than I am.” He shook his head and got up from the armchair. “You’re still coming for Christmas right?” 

“That’s the plan unless you guys wind up never returning from West Virginia.” Bucky teased. Clint chose not to swallow that bait either and walked over to the pair on the couch. Grabbed Lucky’s head and leant in to give him a chain of kisses on the top of his head. And then ruffled Bucky’s hair. 

“Be good yeah?” He scratched Lucky behind his ear one last time, letting the dog grunt like a pig again in response. “And you, I’ll call you sometime Tuesday to let you know when we’ll be back in and coming for the furry bastard.” Clint gestured all over Lucky, sprawled by Bucky’s side. 

“You know, he’s welcome to stay till Wednesday if you guys get in late or just, want to take a rest or whatnot?” Bucky tried, took one of Lucky’s paw and then began to speak in a high pitched voice. “ _Yeah Legolas, I want to stay with Bucky as looooong as I can._ ” Bucky gestured some with the paw to get his point across, grinning like the devil as Clint chose to flip him off instead. 

“See you Tuesday Barnes!” Clint did not turn back to look at the pair of them, he went out to the hall and moments later the heavy door slammed shut. Letting Bucky and Lucky alone in the silence of the apartment. The dog, clearly not distraught at his owner suddenly gone missing, settled back into Bucky’s side, tucked his snout under a paw and let out a sigh as if he just allowed the weight of the world to slide of his shoulders. 

“You and me both pal.” Bucky sighed, shutting his eyes and allowed himself to doze of into a nap. They still had time, and three hours served for plenty of napping time before they had to get up and get ready. After all, for the first time in a very long time. Bucky felt like he had places to be.

-

“Oh my god why didn’t you tell me you had a dog?!” Steve exclaimed with such childish excitement, that he forgot all about Bucky the moment he laid eyes on Lucky. And really, Bucky couldn’t blame him for that. He felt like Clint on that matter, Lucky was the only being that could get away with taking the attention of him. Steve hesitated, looking back up to Bucky as Lucky reached up to Steve, sniffing at his jeans. “Can I pet him? He seems nice, please tell me that I can pet him? He doesn't look like he bites, no you don’t”. Steve’s focus was already slipping away and focusing on Lucky. n

“The only way this guy is getting in your face, is to give you kisses. He doesn’t bite, friendliest creature on the planet, go ahead, hug, kiss, pet, whatever, to your heart's content.” Bucky told him, and Steve felt like he was nine years old, finally told that he was tall enough to ride a rollercoaster he had worked real hard for to grow through the entire summer. He knelt down, spreading his arms and the dog launched into his arms. Entire behind wagging along with his tail and coming up to Steve for kisses. 

Steve laughed, wrapping his arms around the dog to give him all the love and attention that he deserved. “Oh my god you’re absolutely gorgeous aren’t you?” Steve muttered to the dog. The dog barked as if to respond to him. “Why didn’t you tell me you had a dog Bucky?” Steve looked up to him. Bucky just stood beside them and raised his shoulder. 

“Because I don’t, I have a cat. This is Clint’s dog. I’m only watching him till Clint’s back from his in-laws. Steve, meet Lucky. Lucky, meet Steve.” Bucky formally introduced the pair. Steve smirked a bit and looked back to the dog, scratching him behind his ears with both of his hands and laughed at the expression that came over his face. 

“What happened with his eye?” Steve asked, turning his attention back to Bucky and stood up. Lucky whined at the lack of attention and pawed at Steve’s leg. 

“Some jerk threw him out into traffic. Clint kicked their asses, took the dog to the vet and he has been a Barton family member ever since.” Bucky looked down to Lucky, either oblivious to missing an eye or not having a single care in the world that he did. 

“Well, then I hope Clint beat their assess good and proper.” Steve stated, stepping over to Bucky and giving him a one armed hug. “It is good to see you to, I just really like dogs.” Steve laughed, letting go of Bucky again and looked down to Lucky. 

“It’s alright, I would have done the same if you turned up with this gorgeous beast.” Bucky winked to Steve, signalling him that he was off the hook if there even had been one. 

“So this is why you were being so mysterious about going to Central Park. Is he the secret that you were telling me about? The surprise?” Steve pointed down to Lucky, and couldn’t help but to reach down to the dog and pet him again. 

“Yeah, I thought now with the winter days and all that, and a dog, that we could just, take a long hike through it, what do you think?” Bucky asked him, a hint of insecurity came over him and he brushed away a strand of hair that had blown into the corner of his mouth. 

“I think that’s great.” Steve outright admitted, and saw how Bucky visibly relaxed. “How do we get there though? I mean it’s like what, two hours walking? Three maybe? We get there and we might as well turn around again.” 

“Well duh.” Bucky snorted. “We take the subway Steve come on.” Bucky rolled his eyes and started walking. Steve remained standing for one second longer, stunned at what he just had been told and then followed suit. 

“He’s not allowed on the subway.” Steve pointed out, wondering how Bucky even had that thought strike him. The look that Bucky gave him was almost incredulous. 

“Steve, I thought you said you were only gone for a year not two? Didn’t you see how New Yorkers responded to that?” He asked, adjusting the lead around his wrist and opened up his hand, offering it to Steve to take. Steve did. 

“No, I never really used the Subway, I had work, my gym, groceries all on the same block. Whenever we went somewhere Tony had Happy drive that glorified soccer van around.” Steve explained to him. Bucky let out a soft ahh and looked out ahead of them. Lucky wandering just a few steps ahead of them, not bothering to sniff anything in his path, he had gotten most of that out of his system on the walk to the meetup point it seemed. 

“Well, as New Yorkers do, they all started putting their dogs in big bags and carried them, as the New York City Subway rules state, and I quote _no person may bring any animal on or into any conveyance or facility unless enclosed in a container and carried in a manner which would not annoy other passengers._ Meaning, he’s allowed on if he’s in either a crate, or a bag that would not allow him to annoy other people. He’s a bit to big for one of those Paris Hilton purses but don’t worry, I brought an ikea bag. The catch however.” Bucky drawled on, then smirked to Steve. 

“Is that I, as a cripple with only one arm.” Bucky began, moving both of their hands to his chest as if to make a point. “Cannot carry him without putting me and the dog, and other passengers at risk, ergo, he would not be allowed on. So that means that you have to carry him. Don’t worry, Clint does it all the time.”

“Oh my god you are absolutely insufferable.” Steve huffed dramatically. Bucky laughed. “I’ll be on my deathbed, recounting how on my second date with one James Buchanan Barnes, how he made me carry a dog in an ikea bag on the subway.”

“Yes but, look at Lucky, now look at my puppy dog eyes, can you blame me?” Bucky smirked that god awful smirk, and then he leaned in. Speaking the next few words very slowly. “I am a cripple.” He reminded Steve before he started laughing again, a wholesome, warm sound. “I’ll be shouting and making a scene how you wont help the poor one armed man and his beloved dog.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Steve warned him, bumping their shoulders together. In a fit of giggles, Bucky shook his head. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Steve huffed, and this time Bucky was the one that bumped their shoulders again, resting his head a little bit against Steve. ”So when are Clint and Natasha coming back home and you have to give up this lovely furrball that I’m trying really hard not to steal?”

“Clint and Natasha?” Bucky looked at him, confused and with his brows furrowed. Steve nodded. 

“Yeah? Back from his in-laws? Although I’m having a hard time imagining someone like Clint as a married man.” Steve explained, gesturing a little bit with his hand. Bucky’s brow remained furrowed, and then cleared up as a simple oh escaped him. 

“Yeah Clint and Nat aren’t married.” Bucky explained. “Everybody thinks they are though, believe me I thought the same when I met them. Well, dating or at least fucking but it turned out that never really was a thing. No you see, Clint is married to a woman named Laura, they’ve got two kids and everything, third one on the way.” Bucky explained. Steve just listened to him, jaw dropped and unable to think of anything to say in response to that. Bucky seemed to understand that, and gave Steve a understanding nod. “I know.”

“I assumed that… she married him because of how they acted when they met and all, and when she turned down Sam.” Steve mused. Either he wasn’t observant, or the woman was very good at keeping illusions and a poker face up. Steve started to get the feeling it was the latter. 

“Yeah no, that’s not how it works. Nat’s…” Bucky paused, chewed on his lower lip and seemed to consider what he was about to say. Steve waited, both patiently and curiously to hear what Bucky was about to say. He just found himself disappointed. “She’s married to a guy named Nik. Loyal to the end let me tell you.” 

“Huh.” Steve mused, shrugged dropped the topic. They had reached the subway station anyhow, and Bucky let go of Steve’s hand, handed over the lead and dropped his bag from his shoulder. Steve spent the better part of the minute petting Lucky again while Bucky pulled out a bright blue ikea bag out of his, zipped it shut again and put it back on his back. 

Next followed a five minute struggle to get the dog in the bag and to get him to sit still. Giving Steve serious doubts that Clint took Lucky with him on the subway. And if he did, the dog sure as hell didn’t go into an Ikea bag. Eventually they succeeded, and Lucky seemed to settle in the back, strapped securely over Steve’s shoulder. Lucky had laid down in it as best as he had been able to in the bag, and his head peeked out by Steve’s armpit, observing the people in the tube as they went up the stairs.

For safety’s sake, Bucky still held the lead in his hand so they had a security blanket in case Lucky decided to jump out. The train they stepped out was half filled, and they went to the back off it, away from most people for safety’s sake and so Bucky could lean against the back of the cart rather than have to hold the pole. 

And it was when Bucky began to smirk that Steve decided something was definitely up with the other. But he took joy in seeing Bucky like that, and he imagined that it was a flash of a Bucky he had never known. A Bucky who hadn’t been scared of taking steps forwards, who didn’t look like he was a deer in headlights over having been kissed, calling in a panic and a frenzy to apologise for something he really shouldn’t. 

“What?” Steve asked, curiosity bursting and wanting to know what was ghosting through Bucky’s mind. What made him shift his weight from foot to foot and have that god awful, but oh so beautiful smirk. It made Steve want to kiss him again. But he kept that for himself, and made no movement to do so.

“I lied Stevie.” Bucky said so casually, without any shame. And the nickname warmed his neck a bit, flushed blood to his ears and Steve decided that he liked it. He didn’t think that anyone had ever called him Stevie. And the way that Bucky said it made it seem so homely, and he imagined it whispered in his ear in cold winter mornings when they were both hiding under the covers still, but yet there was a strong scent of black coffee and freshly baked bread. 

“I knew it.” Steve threw his eyes up to the ceiling of the cart and Bucky began to giggle. “I fucking knew it, you’re messing with me I should have known. He did not do this like a trained dog you’re messing with me.” 

“Clint has never taken Lucky on the subway.” Bucky spoke the words with such glee, that Steve still couldn’t blame him for doing it. He looked at the other, huffed a out a soft chuckle and looked down to Lucky, who’s one eye glanced up to him. Steve could see the tip of Lucky’s tail begin to wag, the only part of it that had space enough to move. 

“He’s made us both look like fools huh pal? What are we going to do with him?” Steve told Lucky, who let out a small huff in response to him. Bucky was still smiling, and then reached for the pocket of his coat. that one hadn’t gotten the arm sewn of, instead Bucky had just stuffed it inside. 

“I want to take a picture, can I take a picture?” He asked, showing his phone to Steve. 

“What? So you can shove it in my face on my deathbed and remind me of the time when you made me carry a dog on the subway?” Steve asked, Bucky’s grin now flashed teeth, and Steve nodded his approval. Bucky raised his phone and snapped a picture. 

“Among other things.” Bucky admitted, tapped his phone with his thumb and then turned the phone over for Steve to see. He could just make out how Lucky looked up to him with his one eye, adoration in the gaze. “And also to send to Clint. He told me to let him know how you were with Lucky because dogs are excellent judges of character.” 

“That they are.” Steve agreed. “I’m going to get back at you for this, just so you know. And I will be taking a picture as well and set that on my phone for whenever you call. So everytime you, I will be reminded of what I did and I will laugh with such glee before picking up, and remind you every single time.” 

“I can live with that.” Bucky winked to him. “In fact, thank you very much for a very good suggestion and idea. I just might do the same.” He said in such a nonchalant air, gesturing some with his hand now when he had tucked his phone back away. Steve rolled his eyes. 

“You’re terrible, he’s terrible isn’t he?” Steve looked back down to Lucky, the tip of his tail started to move again. The train started to slow down and Steve quietly mouthed to Bucky _you’re terrible._

Bucky just laughed, and it was a laugh that would keep him warm for the rest of the day.

-

Lucky absolutely loved Central Park, darting from one end of their path to the other, head low against the ground and tail up and alert. In the end Bucky had to hand the lead over to Steve, as the sudden tugging at times turned out to be something lethal for Bucky on certain hidden ice patches. Telling Steve that the last thing he wanted was to fall down on his ass and break something.

When Steve felt the strength of the dog on the lead, he was inclined to agree. But at least he still had his full balance, and didn’t have to wrap it around his wrist in order to be able to hold Bucky’s hand. 

They walked through most of Central Park at a relatively relaxed pace, allowing Lucky to decide which direction to take them. They paused at one point to buy themselves some Hot Chocolate, and shared some crepes that they found by a food cart. Buying one for Lucky as well while they ate their little snack on a bench. Bucky however, still felt slightly peckish after their crepe. And while he resisted the urge to go and buy a second one, he did invite Steve over for when they were on their way home for some take out at his apartment, which Steve happily accepted.

By the time that it was four in the afternoon and they had walked around for three hours, just talking, the sun started to lower. And with that an impending chill came over him. Lucky’s enthusiasm had decreased some, and he stopped tugging the lead from left to right, but instead wandered just ahead of them without sniffing. Bucky took the hint, understanding that Lucky was slowly beginning to cave for the day. 

“I think we should head back, I think we broke him.” Bucky said on a soft tone to Steve, almost as if he didn’t want to make Lucky aware of the fact that they were talking about him. Almost as if he was expecting Lucky to protest like a five year old, whining that they weren’t tired at all. 

“Yeah, it’s getting cold to.” Steve said. “Plus, I’m getting a bit hungry now after walking around all day. And I’m really curious to see your preschooler knork.” Steve grinned down to Bucky, who raised both of his eyebrows before pulling his hand out of Steve’s and shoved him in his side. 

“And you say I am the unbearable one, jesus christ what did I get myself into going out with you.” Bucky whined. “How about you have your dinner with the knork huh, see how you like that?” 

“Hey I’ll do it, I’ll probably eat with more dignity using a red plastic knork than chopsticks again.” Steve mused. Bucky joined him by his side again and rather than to take Bucky’s hand again, he put his arm around the other’s shoulders. He felt how Bucky in return placed his arm around Steve’s back, and sighed content. “Do you want to head back? Eat some, watch something, just sit indoors and warm up a little and watch me carry him in an Ikea bag again?”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” Bucky said on a low tone. Neither said anything after that, but Steve steered their walk out of the park and then set direction towards the closest subway station. It was only after a couple of minutes that Bucky spoke again. “Steve?” 

Steve looked down to Bucky, who stared at him with those breathtaking grey and blue eyes. He felt Bucky’s fingers squeeze his side, something that made him want to move away to avoid the tickling feeling. It took all his self control to keep on walking. “I like this a lot. Hanging out with you. I’ve been having a lot of fun lately. So I just want to say, thanks for giving me that second shot.” 

“Hey.” Steve smiled to him and squeezed Bucky’s shoulder a bit. Doing so without thinking and realising only after that he might have crossed a line in doing so. Bucky’s eyes widened, but he didn’t seem to protest. There came something over him, but Steve couldn’t figure out what it was. But Bucky didn’t cast his eyes down, or gently move away from him. That had to count for something. “I like hanging out with you, this has been fun. I mean I don’t know if you know but, watching you stuff your face with pancakes is a pretty cute sight.” 

Bucky rolled his eyes, then tugged Steve with him to the side of the pathway. Lucky didn’t notice until he felt the tug of the lead, but then obediently followed. He stuffed his nose under a bush and began sniffing again. Bucky let go of Steve’s side, turning to face Steve. Nose and cheeks slightly red from the frost, tucked into that scarf of his and hiding his mane of hair under a hat. He looked up to Steve, with curious eyes. “You okay?” Steve asked, wondering if by some fluke he had done or said something. When Bucky nodded again, he relaxed. 

“You can um-” Bucky licked his lips and looked down to the ground. He kept his gaze there and muttered something inaudible under his breath. And then he looked back up to Steve, white teeth still pressing down on that dark red lip. “You can kiss me if you want.” 

The words worked like magic in Steve’s chest, at first shutting down ability to think straight, and for a moment he just looked at Bucky, thrilled with what he just had heard but also unsure that it just had been that word for word. He placed a hand on Bucky’s cheek, gently, as if he would spook him by being just that tad bit too hard. As if Bucky would disintegrate right in front of him. 

“You sure?” Steve asked, needing the confirmation more for himself rather than for Bucky. And the way he nodded, smiling up to him like that and his teeth pressing on his lower lip, eyes glittering with the excitement not unlike someone getting their first kiss. And Steve understood that one simple kiss would mean the world to him. “I mean…” Part of Steve wanted to kick himself for making sure that Bucky wasn’t feeling pressured, part of him wanted to kiss Bucky right then and there. 

“Yeah, I guess I just, I needed to think it through you know? And I did this week, and now. And… walking here has kind of been, relaxing and perfect. So yeah, you can kiss me if you want.” Bucky said softly, speaking in such a way that it made Steve feel like they were in their own little bubble, that everything around them was nothing more but white noise in the background. 

It was all the verbal confirmation that Steve needed. He tilted Bucky’s head up slightly by moving his fingers under the others jaw. And pressed his lips against Bucky. Short and sweet and innocent and blurring out the world surrounding them. At that moment there was nothing else but him and Bucky, the feel of the others lips, a hand in his neck and a thumb coming to rest just behind his jaw and under his ear. Keeping Steve in place and the most wonderful bit of all, made the kiss entirely on Bucky’s terms. 

He wasn’t pushing him away, but he wasn’t pulling him in deeper either. Instead he kept him firmly in place as they shared a kiss with one another that made Steve forget about the cold. That made a warmth uncoil itself from his heart and chest, pulling him into a warm embrace. 

When their kiss ended, Steve didn’t move away instantly. He kept close to Bucky, sharing the warm blanket that had wrapped them both up for a moment longer. Bucky let out a pleased hum, and pressed his lips to Steve’s again, a quick peck and the hand in Steve’s neck slid away. He looked at Steve, those eyes of his now darker with his dilated pupils and Steve suspected his own eyes weren’t far off. He had the sweetest smile on his lips, and his hand sank down to Steve’s chest, keeping it in place there and making Steve wonder if he could feel the thrum of his heart through his jacket. 

“Thank you for that.” Bucky said, and that smile shifted away and into a smirk again. It almost looked as if there was a comment coming. But Steve had judged that wrong. Still, a line had been tossed, and Steve found himself tracing it. He hadn’t asked many questions like that, he hadn’t wanted to pry in what was going on in the depths of Bucky’s head. But with that the question was out of him before he even knew he was about to ask it. 

“For what?” He asked, Bucky gave a mysterious little shrug and looked to Lucky, who had sat down beside them and was panting, eyes half closed as he waited for them to wrap up their business. 

“Only like, one of the best kisses in my life, don’t let the ego get to you.” Bucky teased, now tapping Steve on his temple with his index finger to wake him up from the dreamland that Steve was threatening to visit. Ah, there the comment was. Steve grunted and put his arm back around Bucky’s shoulders and pulled him in, the other laughed as Steve pressed a light kiss to the top of his head and the pair began to walk again. 

“Insufferable, I keep telling you, you are the insufferable one. I’m not. You’re absolutely dreadful.” Steve huffed, Bucky’s arm slid back around Steve’s back, he got to kiss him on the top of his head again and all was well.

-

Getting Lucky into the Ikea bag the second time round was a lot easier. Bucky wasn’t sure if it was because he remembered the drill, or because he had gotten so tired that he enjoyed a short moment of rest. Clint had responded to the text that Bucky had sent earlier with three heart eyed emojis and then sent another picture taken over his shoulder, of Cooper and Lila sleeping in the back row of the car.

By the time that they reached the Chinese restaurant Bucky’s stomach was rumbling, and Steve waited outside with Lucky while he went in to collect their orders he had previously placed through his phone app. They darted across the street, and went into his apartment building. 

“I’m sorry it’s a bit messy.” Bucky excused himself and pushed the door open. Steve clicked the lead of Lucky and the dog went inside first of all, heading straight for the living room. “I’m not exactly an expert at dusting.” Bucky held the door open for Steve, who slid inside. 

“That’s okay.” Steve started taking of his jacket. Bucky took of his shoes and put their food down on the floor, shrugging out of his coat as well. “Dusting is pretty boring.” Steve took of his shoes, and remained standing in the hallway. Lost in a foreign home and not wanting to impose himself. Bucky hung up his coat, picked the plastic bag up from the floor and led the way into his apartment. 

Steve followed, and they passed Lucky who had already curled up into his bed into a ball, sleeping soundly. Bucky put the bag with food on the table and began rummaging through his drawers for clean cutlery. It occurred to him that it had been a while since he last had used the silverware and wondered if he should wash it off first. Steve began taking out the take out boxes and put them on the table. 

“Are you going to show me the knork?” Steve asked, so serious, so flat. Bucky looked over his shoulder, Steve was smirking at him, so he turned his focus back to the drawer and found the red plastic device of hell, bumped the drawer shut with his hip and turned around. 

“You asked for it. No backing out now.” Bucky offered it to Steve, not taking his eyes of the other. Instead he kept watching the other, waiting for any form of reaction that he would give him. Steve looked at it, his jaw dropped a little bit. As if he had trouble comprehending what he was actually seeing. ANd then he burst out laughing. 

“Oh god you’re right it does look like something for a toddler.” Steve gripped the chair and lowered his head to wheeze. Bucky snickered and tossed it onto the table, it clattered across it and came to halt against one of the cream coloured boxes. 

“You asked for it. Now you’re eating with it. You said you would.” Bucky warned, grabbing a pair of chopsticks from the cup that stood by the sink. “Do you want a drink? Beer?”

“I did, I did oh god I’m regretting it.” Steve admitted, pulled out the chair he had gripped moments earlier and took a seat. “Yeah, beer sounds nice.” Bucky turned just as Steve picked up the knork from the table and started examining it. He took two cans and put them on the table, sitting down by the second and only remaining chair around the small round table. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Bucky opened his can and took a sip, then pulled one of the containers over to him and opened while stretching out his legs, taking the liberty to put them up over Steve’s leg. He waited for him to knock them off, but Steve never did. Instead he kept examining the knork. 

“Did they honestly expect you to eat with this?” Steve asked, running his finger over the few hard edges that it offered. “I mean, ignore the fact that it looks like something for toddlers, but this doesn’t exactly seem… I mean there have to be better out there right?” 

“Of course there are.” Bucky began to eat. “That’s just the two bucks edition they give you at the hospital if you’re lucky. If you nag your way into them giving you one. There’s others out there. I looked them up one day. For proper ones, you know ones that will last and that aren’t made out of fake gold or silver or anything like that. I found that you at least need to shell out like forty bucks. And I am only human right? Pedantic, I want my stuff to blend in. So I found this set online right, looks pretty much like regular cutlery, you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference if you put them next to one another pretty much. That, would have cost me sixty, and that wasn’t even with shipping included. Then I would have had four of them, sure, matching spoons and knives, even if I don’t use them anymore but excellent for guests and all. But it’s frustrating when you can get very decent, quality stuff at Ikea for five bucks and that is a sixteen piece set you know?” 

“That’s just disgusting.” Steve muttered, flipping the knork over in his hand before grabbing his container. “It doesn’t look easy to eat with.” 

“Well, you’re about to find out.” Bucky picked up his can of beer again. “Oh, and if you want the real experience, then you shouldn’t cheat.” 

“Cheating?” Steve put the lid upside down on the table, looking at Bucky who wiggled his eyebrows when he drank. 

“Holding the container with your other hand if it starts to move around.” Bucky put the can down and raised his hand. “I only have one hand Steve, otherwise I wouldn’t have that stupid thing. Try the real experience.” He teased, but also taking immense joy in it. It felt nice sharing his frustrations with someone who seemed to take in what he said. 

And sure enough, he saw Steve try. The noodles were a long lost battle, the tines on the knork being broad and not allowing much space didn’t leave for much food to be speared. Let alone remain on the knork. It worked best on the pieces of chicken, but whenever Steve tried for the sake of it, to cut a piece in two, he found that despite the chicken being so soft and marinated, that the blunt edges didn’t allow for much assistance. And sure enough, every single movement that he made, caused the container to slide in every direction. 

By the time that Steve had finished half of his meal, he was groaning in frustration. “Fun isn’t it?” Bucky removed his legs from Steve’s, taking pity on the man now and getting up. 

“I would have become an expert at chopsticks as well if this was what I was given to work with Jesus Christ.” Steve complained. Bucky smiled a bit and took one of the forks and a knife from the drawer.

“I only lasted a week with it.” He ran the cutlery under the tap for a couple of seconds before turning the water off. He had made Natasha try to see if he was just doing something wrong with it. But Natasha being Natasha had in all her elegance made it work, and Bucky should have known that would be the result before he had asked her. It had made him feel better when he had asked Scott to try and he had voiced the same frustrations as Bucky. “Here.” Bucky finished drying of the cutlery and handed them to Steve, who took them with a sigh of relief. 

“Thanks.” Steve smiled weakly to him, handing him the knork back. Bucky just tossed it into the sink and went back to his seat. Steve looked relieved at being able to use both of his hands again, even if it just meant holding his container in place. Bucky had by then already finished his meal, pushed the container away and put the chopsticks in the sink. He was finishing his beer instead, listening to Steve as he told him about how he had managed to get an interview at a school for a position as a temp art teacher. It was only temporarily, lasting till the beginning of Summer vacation but it would give him enough time to figure out what he wanted. And Bucky was happy for him, telling Steve that he was sure that the interview would go well and that Steve would enjoy the job as well. He looked happy when he spoke about it. 

Steve finished his meal, now much faster with a piece of cutlery he was used to, and together they cleaned up the kitchen. It only consisted of dumping the containers in the trash and washing their eating utensils. Steve washed and Bucky dried them with the towel. By then Anya walked into the kitchen, meowing her demand for dinner and rubbing herself against Bucky’s leg. 

So Bucky took the chance to introduce Steve to his pet. He picked her up, gave her a kiss behind her eat and let Steve pet her. Anya instantly shut her eyes and began to purr at the others touch. Exactly what Bucky had expected of her to do. He put her back down after, and invited Steve for the very short tour of his apartment. 

Lucky was still sleeping in his bed and didn’t even notice when the two men walked past him again, completely knocked out from the afternoon at the park. Bucky made a quick gesture  
as to where the bathroom was, the bedroom, although made no effort to actually show the room to Steve. It was by far to soon for that. 

Instead, Bucky halted himself at the part of his apartment which he took his pride in. The shelves that covered every inch of the wall, filled with vinyls and cds, neatly organised by artists in alphabetical order, the cd’s and vinyls in order of their release. Most of them still with their protective plastic around them. Hundreds, thousands. A lifetime’s worth of savings that Bucky had in round shapes that he could play, giving him more joy to life than the money’s worth in a bank ever could give him. Steve just stared at it. 

“Wow.” Steve muttered, resting both of his hands on his hips as his eyes scanned them all, taking in what he was seeing. Bucky was watching him expectantly, biting down on his thumb while he waited for Steve to digest what he was seeing. Wondering if he was changing his opinion on just how much that Bucky truly loved his music. He had told him, but now Steve saw physical proof behind just facts that Bucky had babbled on about. “That’s a lot of music.” Steve then said, dumbfounded. Bucky snorted. “How many do you have? This is a small record shop Bucky.” 

“I’ve got about…” Bucky glanced up to the ceiling, mouthing numbers along as he ran a quick calculation in his mind. “I think… like two thousand five hundred vinyls? Give or take? On top I think I got about a thousand cd’s? Something like that. That’s not all, I still have a fuckton in storage, but I couldn’t fit them in my apartment.” Bucky shrugged, relishing in how utterly shocked Steve looked. 

“You’re kidding me?” Steve asked, pointing over to the shelves. Bucky kept shook his head. Steve looked back to the shelves, mouthing another wow. “That’s… I dread to think of how much money went into that collection.” 

“To be fair.” Bucky began and stepped closer to Steve, he moved his arm across his chest and gripped the side of his t-shirt. He had imagined he had crossed his arms over his chest, and when his hand had fallen without coming to rest in his elbow he had been reminded of it. “I started this collection when I was like ten. So this is like, nearly twenty-five years worth of collecting.”

“Somehow Bucky. I doubt that I’m going to find a cd in here that is titled Absolute Hits and contains kids songs that we all listened to while young but now refuse to admit, in this collection Bucky. Maybe in storage.” Steve took a step closer, brushing his fingers over the spines of some vinyls, tilting his head to read the artist and album. 

“Okay, I will give you that. I didn’t really keep those.” Bucky admitted. “Still, everyone has a passion right? You’ve got drawing, this just, happens to be mine, that’s all.” Bucky looked at the vinyls himself, and glanced up to the cd’s that were neatly piled on top, covering the remaining space in between the bookshelf and the ceiling. 

“Alright, question time.” Steve stepped back again. “What’s your favorite album?”

Bucky winced at the question, whined and pressed his forehead against Steve’s shoulder. “Don’t make me choose Stevie.” Bucky whined. He felt the others arm around his back, felt how his hand moved up to the base of Bucky’s neck. And he looked up to Steve with a pout. “You can’t ask me that question. There’s to many. I love them all, they’re all my babies, otherwise I wouldn’t have them on display.” 

“Uhh, yeah, I can. And I will. You can’t show me all of this, and then not have an answer for what albums your favourite. Go on. Pick one.” Steve the bastard, winked at him, gave Bucky a chaste kiss and then pushed him towards the bookshelf. Bucky sighed, gripping slightly tighter over his shirt. “And while you’re at it. What was your band called?” 

“Can I at least pick my top three to make it easier?” Bucky asked and turned to Steve. He nodded his approval and Bucky sighed, at least that made it somewhat easier. It saved him from having to pick out just one in thousands. He suddenly felt happy that he never told him about the five hard drives, each of one terabyte each that he also had filled to the brim with music over the years ever since Limewire had been a thing and given his very first computer aids. “We called ourselves Fever Delirium.” 

“Fever Delirium?” Steve asked behind him. Bucky nodded and came up to the shelf, kneeling down and decided that one album was a clear choice now when he thought about it. 

“It was Clint’s idea.” Bucky explained, hearing the soft ah behind him. “He had a fever once, was delirious and suggested that. Considering we had been a band for six months without name, we just kind of took it for lack of better options.” Bucky flipped over the Vinyl, then reached it behind his back for Steve to take. He did. 

“Jimi Hendrix.” Steve read out loud. “Suppose I can’t argue with that. Not that I’ve ever really listened to him properly. Enough people seem to love him for there to be some truth behind the choice I imagine.” 

Bucky paused his search, looking over his shoulder. “You’ve never really properly listened to Hendrix?” Bucky questioned. Steve didn’t look up from the colourful album in his hands. “Right, we’re putting that on once I’m done with your torture here.” Bucky mused and turned his focus back to searching for the other top two albums. 

For his second album, Bucky was fully well aware that he made a cliche choice. But Steve could think what he wanted as he handed him Nirvana with Nevermind. They had been the voice of an entire generation, and still were in an odd way even in modern times. For the third album, Bucky took his time picking out the third, wanting his next choice to be worth the wait for Steve, and also because he still struggled deciding in between ten albums. 

In the end, he picked out Led Zeppelin’s fourth self titled album. His knees cracked as he stood back up and handed him the album. Steve flipped it over, reading the songs in the back. “I know this one.” Steve tapped on it. “Sort of.” 

“You just were a radio kid weren’t you?” Bucky asked him with a smug grin. Steve raised his shoulders in defence. 

“Nothing wrong with being a radio kid.” Steve stated simply. “I know music, but I suck at the band names and song titles and stuff like that. Chances are though if you sing the song for me I’ll recognize it.

“Never said there was. Besides, if you mentioned some art piece to me I probably wouldn’t know which one you were talking about either so. I suppose that makes us even.” Bucky took the Led Zeppelin album back and tried to put it back on the shelf. It worked somewhat, even if it made a tight fit. 

“The persistence of memory?” Steve asked him as he handed Bucky back the Nirvana album. 

“Say what now?” Bucky asked, looking at him with a furrowed brow. 

“That art piece with the melting clocks?” 

“Ah yeah I know that one! See, we’re even.” It was easier getting the Nirvana album back into the shelf. When Steve handed him the Jimi Hendrix album, Axis: Bold as Love however, he walked over to his record player. He put on the record, softly turning up the volume to let the crackle fill the living room, and soon enough the drowned sound of guitar came into the room before being so rudely interrupted by the English voice welcoming them to the EXP radio station. 

They stood in silence, listening to the intro of the song and Bucky shut his eyes as the panning effect came to use and found himself smiling at it. He felt how Steve came up to behind him and moved an arm around Bucky again. So he turned and allowed Steve to hug him. He smiled up to Steve, wishing that the moment would never end. Wishing he could watch Steve’s gentle smile forever, wishing that he could stare into those eyes for all eternity and that he could kiss those lips again. 

But he could. So he tipped his head up just slightly, and Steve met him halfway for a kiss. He didn’t have a worry in the world. How could he, with Steve’s strong arms around him like that, at that moment he felt like he could tackle the world again. The panning effect seized, drums filled the room and Hendrix began to sing. 

It was a perfect kiss, not rushed, very much present in the now and Bucky didn’t feel any need to deepen it, or to lighten it. And when they broke apart again, it was at the perfect moment once more. Unable of helping himself, he pressed a light peck against Steve’s lips and smiled at him. “Do you want to see my guitars?”

“That depends, do you have a thousand of those as well?” Steve asked, his voice had grown a bit deeper and by god did he sound sexy. Bucky shook his head. 

“Nah, I only have four of those.” He said on a teasing tone. Steve let go of him, and Bucky walked over to the wardrobe beside the record player. He opened one of the doors and stepped aside, letting Steve see his most treasured items in his apartment. Inside the wardrobe were three electronic guitars, standing neatly in their rack and one acoustic. 

“I got this one when I turned like twelve or something like that.” Bucky tapped the acoustic guitar. “For Christmas, I had nagged all year at my dad that I wanted my own. My argument was that if they got me my own, then they wouldn’t have to pay for rent from the music school.” Bucky tapped the electric guitar behind it with the dark green body. “I bought that one when I was fourteen. Spent all summer working for it and half of the autumn for it. It’s shit really, but I can’t bring myself to get rid of it.” He chuckled, strained. 

“This one.” Bucky tapped the middle electric guitar. “This one I got when I was twenty-one. I was going through this all black phase you know? So I couldn’t have my first one anymore with it’s bright red you know?” Bucky sniffed, when had his chest begun to hurt? He blinked rapidly, and to his annoyance noticed that his eyes had started to water. Fury lashed through him for the unexplained reason behind it. 

“Bucky.” Steve said softly, and Bucky knew that he was busted. Still, he ignored him. He sniffed again and swallowed, his throat had begun to feel tight. 

“This one. I got a couple of years ago.” Bucky continued, suddenly aware of how his voice had begun to crack, his chest ached, hurt. Reminding him of old times. And he could almost hear the voice in the back of his head whispering to him that he’d never hold those guitars properly again. That his time of playing was over. “Shit.” He dabbed at the corner of his eyes with his palm. “I used to play that one when we were out with Fever Delirium and all. I just… I just really loved the blue wood you know?”

Used, what a lovely keyword that was. 

“Bucky…” Steve tried again. And Bucky was struck with the realisation that it wasn’t fair on him. Having to awkwardly stand there as Bucky lined up his guitar like past lovers and told the story, only to show that he wasn’t over them in the slightest. “Come here.” Steve tried oh so gently. Bucky couldn’t face. 

“Steve I’m sorry but I think you should go.” Bucky said rapidly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for this to happen. But I think you should go, I need to be alone right now.” 

“Okay.” Steve didn’t argue, and how could he? Bucky followed him back to the hallway, feeling a bit like a kicked dog while Steve got dressed again. He refused to face him, Bucky had a feeling that if he allowed himself to look Steve in his eyes that something inside of him would snap. And he didn’t want Steve to see that. 

When Steve had pulled on his shoes and jacket, he hesitated. And for a short moment Bucky felt his warm embrace. He wanted to press his eyes shut, he wanted to cry, he thought of the familiar weight of the strap of his guitar against his shoulder, he thought of his fingers against the strings and the callouses he had built up over the years, the blisters, the amount of times he had played to the point of making his fingers and nails bleed. Hendrix was still playing in the apartment, mocking Bucky with the ability to play, even if the man was dead. 

He felt a kiss on the top of his head, and Steve stepped back again. “I’ll call you tomorrow okay?” Steve asked gently. Bucky nodded, indicating that he had heard him. 

“Thank you Steve. Good night.”

-

Steve had never enjoyed feeling helpless. He didn’t think anyone did, but he knew he had a special kind of loathing towards it. He had hated as a child, to watch his mother struggle financially without being able to do anything about it. Then later as a teenager, he had hated watching her grow ill and not be able to do anything about it. He had hated being overseas when he had served, of watching friends and brothers get injured, and die, and not be able to do anything about it. He had hated watching Tony when he had begun drinking too much, and how his words had fallen on deaf ears. He had hated watching Wanda and Pietro struggle, new to the United States and going through a culture shock, struggling to recover from a war torn country, and still not wanting to accept any help.

He had hated watching Bucky disintegrate right in front of him in less than a minute, and not being able to do a damned thing. 

It had gone so quickly, and the smiling, laughing, joking man that he had spent such a wonderful afternoon with, who had made him carry a dog in an Ikea bag, who had stuffed his face with more than half of a crepe, who had bit his lower lip and smiled in the most wonderful way and told Steve that he could kiss him if he wanted. And god had he wanted. 

And then Bucky had begun talking about his guitars. Showing them at first with such pride, like a parent talking on about the achievements of their child. And then something had happened, his eyes had changed first. They had grown distant, leaving the present and moving to a different time, reminding Bucky of all the times he had played the instrument. Reminding him that now he couldn’t do that, with only one arm that was impossible, Steve thought. 

And then the eyes had grown watery, the voice had begun to break and by the end of the third guitar Bucky had been shaking in front of him. Shaking with grief and anger, still telling Steve the tale of how he had needed everything to be in black. Leaving Steve unsure of what to do, if there even was anything to do at that. He had wanted to shut the wardrobe so Bucky didn’t have to watch such a painful memory of instruments he had clearly and dearly loved. 

Steve tried to imagine how it must feel, and found that he couldn’t wrap is head around it. He tried to imagine losing his right hand and never being able to draw again. He couldn’t, and became painfully aware of that when he reached for a basket in the grocery store he had entered. Bucky was without a left arm, but still encountered obstacles and hurdles he had to work his way through every single day. The Knork had proved that to Steve. 

And then to lose his passion? Steve imagined that while Bucky loved listening to music, that at times it would serve as a painful reminder that he could never make such sounds again. A bullet to the head started to sound tempting, Steve thought as he tossed a package of rice in the basket, and paused again. There he was, holding the basket with his right hand and using his left. Fuck. 

All he had wanted to do was to help Bucky, wanted to make him feel better, hold him and hug him and tell him that everything was going to be okay. But he had been asked to Leave, and Steve had respected that. Even if he was worrying that Bucky was having some level of mental breakdown now behind closed doors. It was understandable however, while they were getting to know one another, they were still strangers in a way. Steve wasn’t sure he would let anyone comfort him over something so deep and so painful, when he was still getting to know the other. He already felt that Bucky was very open about his daily struggles, he couldn’t demand that Bucky tell him everything. That wasn’t healthy. 

Steve grabbed a tin of peas and carrots to put in his basket, and felt his phone ring. He fished his phone out of his pocket, and felt a mixture of surprise and non-surprise at seeing Bucky’s name on the screen. No picture… he had forgotten to get back to him and snap one for himself. 

He swiped his thumb across the screen and put the phone to his ear. “Bucky? You alright?” Steve asked, prepared to drop everything and return back to Bucky if he needed him to. It had been a good solid twenty minutes since he had left, and maybe Bucky had changed his mind. Maybe he wanted someone there with him after all. 

“ _Hi Steve._ ” Bucky’s voice was hoarse, but he sounded calm, tired, almost drugged in a way. Not that Steve thought that Bucky had taken something. No, on the contrary, he figured that Bucky had ridden out the worst wave of emotions and now just felt tired. “Yeah, I’m a bit better now thank you.” 

Steve breathed a sigh of relief, shutting his eyes for a moment and allowing himself to regain his posture. “ _I’m sorry about that, I didn’t mean to end the evening on a bad note like that. I didn’t mean… to run you out like I did._ ” 

“Hey, it’s okay.” Steve glanced down to his basket again. “Do you want me to come over?” He asked, wondering if he had to go back and start placing items back on the shelves. Or if he could just hand it over to an employee to do for him if he explained the situation. 

“ _No thanks, I’ll be fine. I need to be alone for a little bit now I think._ ” Bucky definitely just sounded tired, there was no slur to his words to indicate otherwise. Steve had learned that many years ago with Tony. “ _I just… I didn’t think I’d get so upset seeing them again you know? I usually keep that door shut. To avoid looking at them, Ironically because it upsets me. I just… didn’t think it could slam me so quickly, that’s all. I’m sorry I ruined the evening._ ” 

“You didn’t ruin anything.” Steve, comforted by Bucky’s words, continued his grocery shopping and walked down the aisle. “Don’t worry about it. I get that it can be upsetting like that.” 

“ _Thanks._ ” Bucky sighed deeply, there was the sound of fabric against the phone. Steve couldn’t hear anymore music in the background. Bucky had probably turned off that reminder as well. Who could blame him. “ _Fuck man, we’ve been out twice and both times I fucked up near the ending and am calling you to explain my fuck ups._ ”

“Does it make you feel better?” Steve asked, pressing the phone in between his shoulder and ear while he grabbed a carton of milk from the fridge. 

“ _What?_ ”

“Just… hanging out, doing our thing, whatever we’re doing. Feeling what you’re feeling. Going our separate ways. Thinking over what you’re feeling and then calling me to talk to me about it?” Steve asked, hoping that he wasn’t overstepping now. Bucky was silent on the other end of the line, considering what Steve had asked him. 

“ _I guess? It is nice though, having a moment to reflect over things. Let myself free dive a bit before calling._ ” Steve smiled a bit at that comment. 

“Then I think.” Steve grabbed a small can of tuna.”That as long as it makes you feel better, that you should keep doing just that. I told you, I appreciate honesty right? So I already appreciate you calling me and explaining what went through your head during those times. So if you feel that there is something you want to say me, and if it will make you feel better, then call me. If talking on the phone after is a way for you to open up and connect to me while still being in a safe space, then let’s make it a routine.” Steve joined the queue to pay, looked up and frowned at the sight of the lighters. Then snatched one down.

“ _Only if you promise to tell me when you get sick of listening to my misery._ ” Bucky mused. “ _I mean it Steve, I don’t want to overload you with just… bad news and bad phone calls to the point where that’s the only thing you think of when you see my name on your phone._ ” 

“Bucky, I have more good moments to outweigh the like.. one, two bad moment’s we’ve had? I will tell you, but I doubt it will happen. I like you, and that means.” Steve smiled at the cashier who gave him a tired nod and started scanning his items, showing that she understood he felt no need for small talk. “That I also care about you and I want to help you, in the areas that you’ll let me of course.” He took out his wallet and pulled out his card. 

Bucky was silent on the other end of the line and Steve put in his card on the moment the young lady was done scanning his items. “Bucky? You still there?” Steve asked, pressing down his pin code. 

“ _Yeah I’m still here._ ” Bucky sighed again. “ _Thank you Steve. For having the patience of a saint and reminding me of a golden retriever all the damn time._ ” Steve chuckled a bit and shook his head when the young woman tried to offer him the receipt. He did however, accept the plastic bag containing his items from the teenage boy who looked out of his mind. 

“You know, you’re not the first person to say I remind them of a golden retriever.” He excited the store. Bucky snorted in the line, which Steve only took as a good sign. “What are you doing?” Steve asked, wanting to get Bucky’s mind on something different. 

“ _Nothing much, In the couch watching a shitty movie that I’m actually not really watching. Think I might head off to bed. To tired now after that whole thing._ ” 

“We did walk around a lot today.” Steve pointed out, darting across the street. “Get some rest Bucky. Some sleep will do you good. And if you can’t sleep, you know exactly where my number is on the phone and I’ll talk to you till you fall asleep. Like teenagers, okay?” 

Bucky laughed softly, and Steve counted the success in having distracted Bucky. “ _I think I’ll be fine on that department. Thank you though. I’ll talk to you again tomorrow?_ ” 

“Of course, just don’t forget it alright?”

“ _I won’t. Thanks Stevie._ ” 

“Oh, before you go. Send me a picture later? I forgot to take a vengeance photo today, send me one of you with Lucky.” Steve asked Bucky. “Good night Buck.” 

Bucky bid his goodbye, and they hung up. Steve was back in his apartment less than ten minutes later and unpacked his groceries. He took another beer and settled in the living room. He turned the television on and checked his cellphone again. Bucky had sent him a picture of him and Lucky in the bed, cuddling up next to him and Lucky already fast asleep. Steve responded by sending him a kissing emoji and telling Bucky to sleep well again. 

Steve grabbed his laptop and went to youtube. He paused for a moment, hesitating. But then he typed in Fever Delirium into youtube. He found no hits of a band, but plenty of family members having filmed a relative in a moment of weakness. He added cover band, but most clips of the people in moments of weakness still shone through. 

He paused for a moment, and then gave facebook a go. There he found a page for a cover band named Fever Delirium, and in one of the pictures he could make out Bucky. There he found videos, clicked on one and let it play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll have you know that my own lab/golden mix did not enjoy the experiment of going in an Ikea bag. The estimate of Bucky's records came from my own bookshelf, my records and some math because I do not have that many. Thanks for reading again! The next chapter is a mini time skip, and takes a slightly sexier turn.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which it's Christmas, Steve and his friends have a discussion of when you're in a relationship with someone, Bucky and Natasha talk and think a bit about grief, Steve gives Bucky his favourite Christmas present and the boys take small, sexual step.

“It’s Christmas Day Wanda. Are you seriously telling me that he’s out there running right now, when it’s snowing and it’s like thirty fucking ball freezing degrees out there?” Steve could hear Sam in the hallway, and just rolled his eyes his eyes at the comment. His focus turned back to the chess game in front of him and he frowned. Thor was always a bastard when it came to Chess. Thor always made people think that he was all muscle and no brain, but if one sat him down they quickly found that Thor had one of the brightest minds of all. And he was one hell of a beast in any game that required strategy. For the past fifteen years since knowing Thor, Steve had never managed to beat the other in chess. 

“Yes I am, no rest for the wicked he says.” Wanda said cheerfully, stepping into the livingroom and passing Thor and Steve, holding a casserole in her hands now that Sam without a doubt had handed over to her. 

“It’s freezing, there’ll be ice everywhere, he’s going to slip and break his leg and then what? Then he’ll be stuck on a couch driving everyone insane. That boy needs to learn how to sit still I’m telling you.” Sam joined them in the living room, patting Steve on the back as he passed by him to greet the other two men. 

“No he wont.” Wanda said cheerfully from behind the kitchen counter, putting the casserole on the stove and turned it on. “He wears spikes on his running shoes to ensure he doesn’t slip.” Sam threw his hands up in the air. 

“Of course the little hare would wear spikes on his shoes.” Sam shook his head. “Tell me, does he go out running when he’s running a fever as well?” Wanda snorted and offered Sam a bottle of beer. He took it. 

“Of course not, whenever he’s under the weather he’s actually a good boy and takes all the required steps to rest as much as he can. Bed, showers daily, has me attempt to recreate our mothers chicken soup, medicine on doctors orders, and takes it easy for at least two days after the fever has let go.” Wanda informed him, Sam almost seemed disappointed at hearing that, being unable of calling Pietro a runaholic. 

“Tony is dropping by in a little bit.” Wanda continued, changing the topic to something else and joining Steve and Thor. She sat down on the couch and pulled her legs up, one ridiculously large cup of tea in her hands, she gestured over Steve and Thor, making Steve look up from the game of chess as he had made his move. “Called me before these two buffoons. Stephen got called in to the hospital for an emergency. So they’ve just postponed their christmas. He’s waiting here until Stephen gets off.” Wanda sipped of her tea. 

“What is it he does exactly?” Steve asked. He hadn’t had much opportunity to talk with Stephen the evening they had met, and ever since he hadn’t seen Stephen ever since. He had only met Tony on a handful occasions since then, and Steve felt happy to hear that Tony would come by even for a couple of hours. 

“He’s a surgeon.” Thor said in a voice warm of honey and smiled up to Steve. That smile only meant that Thor had made a move that Steve would come the loathe the moment he looked down on the chess board. And sure enough, when Steve glanced down he groaned. “Neurological, he’s supposed to be one of the best in his field.” 

“Where on earth did Tony find a surgeon?” Steve stroked his beard, not removing his eyes from the chessboard and tried to figure out how to counter the move that Thor had made for him. He found himself drawing on complete blanks in response, so he leaned back on the couch and stretched out, shaking his head to Thor as if to say that he gave up. Thor laughed. 

“Some fancy rich people gala that normal people don’t get invited to.” Sam mused. “Apparently they spent the entire evening bickering, which seems to normal people like insulting one another but apparently, for them because they have that same sense of wicked humour and banter, it means flirting. I don’t get it either.” 

“Hey, as long as he’s happy.” Steve smiled to Sam, placing his arms behind his head. Sam could only nod in agreement to that. “He seemed very happy with Stephen, I don’t think that I’ve ever known him to be that happy.” 

“He is very happy.” Wanda agreed, taking another sip of her tea while Thor was resetting the chess game. Steve only shook his head feverishly when he saw that look in his eyes. When he saw that Thor wanted to drag him into another game for the evening. The door in the hallway creaked, someone stepped inside and slammed it shut again. Wanda lit up. “Hi!”

“Hey!” Pietro called out from the hallway, there was a heavy thud, followed by another. Pietro stepped into the living room on socks, dark running gear and headphones draped around his neck, a hat and a flush to his cheeks. “Hey everyone, excuse the delay.” Pietro made an exaggerated bow, moved over to Wanda and kissed her cheek. “Now if you excuse me, I’m off for a shower.” 

Just as fast as Pietro had appeared, he disappeared again. “Hurry up I want to open my presents!” Thor called after him, only to hear Pietro laugh through a shut door and the water began to run. 

“No presents opening till Tony gets here.” Wanda warned, Thor groaned and grabbed his beer again. “Speaking of entirely different things, isn’t Loki coming? I thought you said he was coming along?” Wanda reached out and nudged Thor’s thigh with her foot, he just grabbed it, stretched out her leg and began to give her a foot rub. 

“So did I, but you know how he is, his plans change on the second, where he is, the alignment of the moon and the stars and whatever his bloody horoscope app says at that moment. He’s out with Sigyn again, those two are apparently a thing again for this month. I don’t know what the hell is going on with those two.” Thor rolled his eyes, exasperated with his little brother who had given him so much grief and ulcers over the years. Still Steve admired him for still caring as much for Loki as he did. He knew many families who wouldn’t have done that if they had been put through the same hell and high water as Loki had put his family through. 

The door in the hallway opened again and before anyone had a chance to call out and greet Tony, he was already overruling them. “Santa has arrived, everybody keep calm, stay seated, he will make his rounds soon and-shit!” The door slammed shut and there was a thud. Tony cursed some more. “He will make his rounds soon and you will have a chance to whisper in the man's ear what you want for Christmas, just don’t spill on the suit that is all I ask!”

Tony came out to the living room, dressed in a bright red suit with a green tree for a tie and spread his arms wide. He had several bags in both of his hands, which Steve figured were filled to the brim (or to the best extent that Tony could carry) with presents. “Merry fucking Christmas.” 

Tony put the bags down, made his round to give everyone a hug, but Wanda, who he gave three kisses on her cheeks as per Sokovian custom. “I know I know the rule is that everybody brings something to eat. But we all know what happens when I try to cook food to bring. So I’ve compensated in picking up dessert, a bottle of scotch and more presents. That should get me off the hook am I right?” 

“Tony I forgave you before you came in.” Thor said, placing his hand on his chest and smiled widely, the crows feet becoming visible by his eyes as he did and ironically, made him look a bit younger despite that it was an aging feature. 

“That’s a good man.” Tony returned to his bags, knelt down and fished out the bottle of scotch that he spoke off. “Wanda, glasses, we need to toast.” Tony shuffled over to the living room table, put the bottle down and opened it. Wanda took her queue and got up. She went over to the bookshelf and picked out the box with scotch glasses that had been given to Pietro the year before. She unpacked them, and Tony poured them all drinks. At some point the water in the bathroom had stopped running. 

There was a short moment of whining when Wanda however, told Tony they would have to wait until Pietro came back out from the shower. But Pietro being quick like lightning as always, didn’t take long to get dressed in the least. He joined them in a pair of sweatpants and a rather terrible Christmas jumper that had a knitted Jesus on it, with the text Birthday Boy above him. Wanda judged his choice of pants, which Pietro defended himself with that he wasn’t going to lie to himself, he was going to need comfortable pants after all the amount of food he was planning on eating that evening. 

The glasses of scotch were passed around to the others, raised and all drank at the same time. Steve thought for a moment that his throat was going to be set aflame, and Wanda coughed at the strong liquor, tears springing to her eyes. 

The next hour they tore the wrapping of presents, passing them out to one another and accepting them. Steve was ridiculously happy when Thor just gave him a box filled with socks. From Wanda he received a new book to add to his to read pile, but was very glad to have gotten it anyway and decided he would begin reading it the next day. Pietro gave him a membership for a gym not far from his apartment for the upcoming four months which he was also thankful for. He hadn’t found himself a gym since moving back, and now when the decision was made for him he truly had no excuse any longer. 

Thor gave him a voucher for Ikea, _for all the things you found out you were missing_ , he said. Sam gave him a new set of watercolour brush pens and Tony gave him a tablet to plug into his laptop to draw on. They finished their drinks, ended up tossing the wrapping paper at one another for an additional couple of minutes and then moved over to the table to have dinner. 

Halfway through dinner, Steve felt his phone in his pocket vibrate, so he took it out while still listening to Tony’s elaborate story. He smiled as he saw it was from Bucky, unlocked the phone and grinned to himself as he saw the selfie of him and Lucky, the dog being forced to wear a Christmas hat but didn’t seem to be too bothered about it. All Bucky had written along with the picture was _Merry Christmas_ and added a kissing emoji. 

Steve took a picture of the mess of a dinner table, with Wanda and Tony in vision in a heated discussion about just how one prepared a meatloaf and sent in return. Telling Bucky a Merry Christmas himself, that he would call once he had finished dinner and that he missed him. Sam unfortunately, had seen the whole charade. 

“Texting your _boooyfriend?_ ” Sam said on a teasing tone, sounding like an obnoxious little brother. Steve rolled his eyes and tucked his phone away. The statement however, seemed to wake up the rest of the table. 

“Wait what. Steve has a boyfriend? That’s not fair! You’ve been back for like what, a month and you’ve already found someone? I’ve been looking for the past three years and have yet to find someone.” Pietro huffed, drinking from the scotch again. His hair stood out in every direction courtesy of the shower. 

“He’s not my boyfriend.” Steve told Pietro, continuing to eat the breaded carp that Wanda had made, a typical Sokovian dish for Christmas, she had told him once. Ever since Steve had made a point to eat it every time she brought it along. It was delicious. 

“He’s not my boyfriend he says.” Sam snorted, having finished eating for the past ten minutes and had pushed his plate away from him. He just lounged in his chair with a beer bottle in his hand. “Steve, and not his boyfriend, have been on five dates in just one month, to me that sounds like a relationship, doesn’t that sound like a relationship?” Sam demanded, smacking Thor’s bicep. 

“That does sound like a relationship.” Thor the bastard said without missing a beat, focus full on his plate as he helped himself to a fourth portion of the evening. 

“We’re just dating, he’s not my boyfriend.” Steve tried again, but he just had to look at Sam to know that he wasn’t going to drop it. The worst part was, he could see how it was going to become a losing battle to win the argument. 

“It does sound a little bit like that Steve.” Wanda said gently, smiling a mysterious little smile to him and tilted her head to the side. She had pulled up her legs to her chest again, hugging them and pulled the sleeves of her jumper over knuckles. 

“Well, he’s not, we haven’t had that talk yet, so he’s not my boyfriend alright?” Steve gestured a bit with his hand, took his glass of water and drank to clear his throat. “We’re just. Having fun right now. Getting to know one another.” 

“Have you blown him yet?” Pietro asked, making the entire table freeze for a moment before it burst out into laughter. Including Steve who could feel the heat on his ears flash. “What? It’s a valid question. If you’ve been on five dates and you’ve had the dude’s dick in your mouth then you might as well be calling each other boyfriends.”

“Is that what is the qualifying factor for you?” Tony asked, wiping the tears from his eyes in between his giggles. “If you’ve blown a guy plus a few dates and he becomes your boyfriend?” 

“I’d start to introduce him as such, if I ever got that far.” Pietro snorted, finished his scotch and grimaced. “So Steve, the question still stands. Have you blown him yet?” 

“I don’t see how that is any of all of yours concern.” Steve defended himself, looking over the entire table. The only one who’s eyes weren’t on him were Thor’s, who was far to focused on his plate of food and stuffing his face with it. “Tony, when did you start calling Stephen your boyfriend, and please don’t say when after you’ve had his dick in your mouth.” 

The giggle that left Tony only proved to Steve that it had been the response he had wanted to give just for the sake of it. But when he cast his eyes up to the ceiling and got a thoughtful expression over him, Steve realised that he was going to get an honest answer. iIt was only confirmed by the way that he began to drum his fingers on the table. “I don’t think we’ve ever had this conversation you spoke about actually. One day he just was, I introduced him as such after a few dinners and hooking up a couple of times. He didn’t object, nor did he correct me so. After that I suppose.” Tony shrugged and spun his scotch glass around. 

“I think you need to have that conversation.” Wanda mused. “I don’t think I could just, call someone my boyfriend without having had that conversation with them. Like, how do you know when you’ve moved on from just, having a bit of fun and getting to know one another to something more serious?” 

“Thank you.” Steve gestured to her, glad that someone was taking his side on the matter. He had felt a little bit like a question mark when it came to Bucky. He had often wondered where he stood for the other, and had wondered when he should take it up with Bucky. Steve just hadn’t found the right moment to do so. 

“Yes but, it can be difficult to tell the difference between fun and more serious. You can have a shitton of fun with someone and still get the same, drunk and intoxicated feeling while looking someone in the eyes that you’ve known for ten years after some seriously intimate sex.” Sam objected. “So where is that line drawn?” 

“Maybe.” Thor shuffled some more of the carp in his mouth. Chewed and thens wallowed. “Maybe if you get that intoxicating feeling with someone you’ve only known for five days that you speak of, maybe that’s a sign that you should be together forever? Or at least, that you’re meant to give it a proper try? Trust your gut. If it doesn’t feel right then don’t do it. But if it does… I mean, ones gut has to tell you something if you’ve met them at least five times.” 

“God you’re such a romantic.” Wanda smiled at Thor, who just winked in response to her. “Maybe Thor has a point.” Wanda then raised her shoulders, sighing content with the idea. Pietro seemed to be considering the idea. 

“Yeah but… what if you do that, decide to be a thing, and you haven’t even blown the guy, or gone bed with them. And then you do and you find out that… wait a second, we’re not compatible with one another at all. Like… he’s into some really fucking weird shit like Ponyplay and furries and shit, and you’re the most vanilla type there is and have no interest in delving that deep and it’s way out of your comfort zone. Then I think that it is a bit dickish to break up with them after.” Pietro argued, leaning over the table to grab the bottle of scotch and filled up his glass. 

“That is a point. But.” Sam interrupted. “If there is any reason that is a good as any to end a relationship with someone, then it is sexual incompatibility, and that does not make you a dick.” Pietro only nodded, finding no counter argument to that. 

“Alright but, consider this.” Steve shifted in his seat to get a better look at Pietro. “I’ve now met this guy, funny, sweet, sarcastic as fuck at times. Handsome, passionate about many things. All in all, he’s fantastic. We’ve been on a few dates and I can definitely see myself with him in the long run. However, he wants to take things slow, very slow, for reasons I will not mention here. What if he’s not ready for me to have his dick in my mouth for another six months? Or hell, even a year? Does that put us as just dating for a year? Get to know one another?” 

Pietro shifted a little bit in his seat, seemingly growing bothered as he found no argument to what Steve was offering him. “You can be in a relationship and call someone your boyfriend or your girlfriend without having done the dirty with one another, and waiting for one party or both to be ready to do so. Thirteen year olds do it all the time.” Steve continued. 

“Yes but can you compare the way a thirteen year old, hopefully a virgin by then still, goes about with their most likely first, proper relationship? You’re not thirteen, and you’re not a virgin Rogers. You’re in your mid thirties and we all know for a fact that you’re not a virgin because you’ve told us about pregnancy scares.” Tony chimed in. 

“But you cannot say that there aren’t adults who go about this way for their relationships either.” Thor mused. “And it doesn’t matter how people go about their own relationships. It’s none of anyone’s concern but the parties involved. So leave Steve be for this alright? Before this turns ugly, he’s about to get angry look.” Thor pointed over to Steve, and it wasn’t until he did that Steve felt how tense the muscles in his shoulders had gotten. “He doesn’t have to defend himself.” 

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m actually really happy for you that you met someone you like as much as you clearly do.” Pietro offered an apology, holding his drink against his chest and Steve felt the tension in his shoulders release. 

“Apology accepted.” Steve offered his hand over the table for Pietro to shake. He did, and with that the whole ordeal was solved. Instead, Pietro shifted slightly closer to his sister. 

“Come on show me a picture. I’m curious about this mystery guy.” Pietro urged and gestured for Steve to hand over his phone. Steve laughed in response, and found himself giddy at the idea of showing the picture that Bucky just had sent minutes earlier. First however, he found that Bucky had texted him back, saying he missed him as well. “Aww look at that smile.” Pietro mused as Steve just texted back the blushing emoji, tapped the picture and handed it over to Pietro. 

“Oh he’s cute.” Pietro stated instantly upon seeing the picture. Wanda and Tony both leant in to have a look, even if they both had met Bucky before that one evening. “He the guy you met on that party I couldn’t make?” Pietro asked and handed the phone back. Steve nodded. “Jealous. All I ever get on grindr is being stood up or people asking if I’m looking for a sugar daddy.” 

“And why exactly, don’t you accept the offer of a sugar daddy? I don’t see how this is a bad deal?” Tony asked, Pietro turned to look at him. Stone faced. 

“Because Stark. I do not want to fuck a grandpa.” Laughter rippled through the table again. 

-

Lila Michelle Barton was not tired, so there was no need for her to go to bed she said, as she had her fifth crying spell in the span of an hour. 

Bucky, having earned the title of fun uncle ever since Cooper had been a baby, had decided that he wanted to keep his title and stayed out of the argument that she was currently having with Clint. Instead he stayed curled up on one end of the couch with Cooper beside him, watching a Christmas movie on television. The boy seemed tired as well, eyes drooping low as he watched the television with little interest. But Bucky had a feeling that it was more because the amount of food he had eaten and that he now was digesting than anything. 

It was more than enough to knock his focus away from the cellphone he had been given by his parents for Christmas and just leave it in the corner of the room to charge. Scott was sitting on the floor with Cassie, assembling the Lego Star Wars build he had gotten together. Cassie seemed to be the only child who wasn’t tired yet out of the three. Laura and Natasha were still sitting by the dining table, talking about something that Bucky couldn’t overhear and didn’t care to do so either. 

Clint picked up Lila, telling her to say goodnight to the others and kissed the girl on the top of her head. Lila being too tired object anymore, told everyone goodbye through her hiccups and gave a weak wave. Bucky smiled to the girl and waved her off, he loved the little girl but the crying had started to get on his nerves a little bit. 

Bucky watched the movie for a while longer, finding that the past couple of Christmases he had memorized every bit of it and that he truly didn’t enjoy it anymore. Yet to lazy to reach for the remote, he pulled out his cellphone instead, sank down deeper in the couch and pulled the blanket over him. Cooper readjusted himself in protest, and positioned himself over Bucky’s legs with a pillow to rest his head against.

He pulled up Steve’s texts again and asked him what he was doing. What Bucky didn’t expect however was for Steve to respond almost instantly. His phone wooshed, and he had gotten an image sent to him. What Bucky could make out was a bunch of cards laying on the table. Wanda, Sam Thor and another kid that Bucky couldn’t recognize where in the picture, all looking into the camera and giving a thumbs up. 

Next came a text, Steve telling him that the others wished him a Merry Christmas. Then another picture of what Bucky assumed was Steve’s hand, and it was then that Bucky realised they were playing cards against Humanity, asking for his advice on what card to use. Followed up by asking what Bucky was up to. 

Bucky debated on what card to use, then eventually suggested _the screams… the terrible screams_ , along with telling him that the party was reaching the end and two out of three children were getting tired. He sent a photo along with Cooper laying half asleep on his legs, Scott and Cassie barely visible in the corner of it. 

He didn’t get any response for a couple of minutes. He expected to hear it woosh whenever Steve had the time to respond. But he didn’t expect to hear it ring. He was happy however when he picked up his phone and saw the picture of Steve with Lucky in the Ikea bag, and found himself smiling a ridiculous sort of smile when he swiped his thumb over the phone and placed it against his ear. 

“ _Thank you for helping me win that round._ ” Steve voice sounded cheerful as always. “ _Not even Sam could argue against that one, he usually has something to say about every damn card that gets played._ ”

“I’m glad I could be of assistance.” Bucky mused, glancing to the television for a short second. Then he shut his eyes and decided he much rather wanted to take the moment to rest. “You guys seem like you’re having a lot of fun.” 

“ _Oh definitely, we always meet up every year. We call ourselves the club with no family in New York, so we stick together during the holidays_.” Steve laughed. Bucky wanted to say that it sounded a little bit sad when it was put that way. He bit back the comment, realising that he and his friends did the same thing. Except they could go and visit family, they just had chosen to stay with the family they had built for themselves. “ _Did you get any fun presents?_ ”

“Some.” Bucky shifted, Cooper whined in protest again. “The kids made me some cool drawings. Nat gave me a Fleetwood Mac concert shirt. They were sold out when we went and saw them and I was pretty bummed, so that was nice of her. Clint and Laura gave me a Foo Fighters pick to add to my collection. Scott and his daughter Cassie gave me an ant farm.”

“ _An ant farm?_ ” Steve questioned, it brought a small smile over Bucky as he watched the pair on the floor. Scott and Cassie had always been the odd sort, but they embraced it, and Scott encouraged Cassie at every little turn she took so that only made the ant farm all the more adorable in a weird way. 

“Yes. It’s kinda neat actually.” Bucky watched Cooper get up from his legs, grab his own blanket and move over to the armchair in the corner of the apartment. His focus returned on his brand new phone. And giving Bucky the freedom to stretch out his legs. 

“ _Hey Bucky._ ” Steve began after a short moments of silence, Bucky having shut his eyes only mused in response. “ _Do you maybe want to meet up for a bit later? Unless you’re staying late or the night or something?_ ” 

“No, No I can meet up.” Bucky felt his stomach flutter at the thought. Part of him was amused at how he felt like such a young teenager at the prospect of meeting Steve, even if it was just for a couple of minutes. The other of him was just frustrated with acting like such a giddy child. He was a grown man after all, and there was no reason for him to act as if he was thirteen years old. “I think this is slowly reaching an end here anyway. Lila is being put to bed right now. Cooper is almost falling asleep in his chair. Cassie and Scott got a way to drive. So I don’t think I’ll wind up staying here very much longer.” 

“ _Cool!_ ” Steve cleared his throat. “ _I mean, cool that we can meet up and all that. Not that it’s ending over there, I mean we don’t have to, if you’d rather be with them then I totally get it._ ” Bucky snorted. 

“Come on Steve.” He began, then spoke on a much quieter tone, certain that no one would overhear him. He just wanted to keep that private in between them, within their little bubble. “I want to meet you. You finish up your game and whatever you’re still doing, don’t stress, and give me a call when you’re ready to leave and we’ll meet up okay? Where are you?” Bucky pulled his legs up to him and let Laura join him on the couch, she huffed, red faced and a hand on top of her round stomach.

That seemed to pacify Steve a little bit. “ _I’m at Wanda and Pietro’s. They live over by the old Swimming Pool, you know the one where people protested so severely for shutting it down? Couple of minutes of walk from there. Where are you?_ ” 

“I know that place. My mom used to take me and my sisters there for a swim every now and then.” Mostly when she had felt the need to let her children lose to vent some energy and have them knocked out come the evening. It had worked flawless every damn time. “Clint’s place. So maybe… twenty, twenty-five minutes away from there? Fun really, living in a big city is still living in a small world, the only difference is people keep walking past one another without even bothering to look up at one another.”

“ _It is isn’t it? You want to hang out for a bit at my place? It’s the closest, and maybe this half blizzard eases up a little bit by then. Have a beer or two, maybe watch a movie. Had it been any other day I would have suggested order in Pizza but jesus I am so stuffed that I don’t think that i can handle another bite to eat._ ”

“That sounds perfect Stevie. Let me know when you’re ready to go yeah? Don’t rush for my sake, finish the game, drink or whatever you guys were doing.” Clint returned from Lila’s bedroom, now looking by far more exhausted himself than he had done before attempting to put her to bed. He sank down besides Laura, resting his head against her shoulder. Lucky forced himself up from his basket and walked over to Clint with tired steps to demand pets. 

“ _I’ll see you soon. Till later Bucky._ ” And with that Steve hung up the phone. Bucky locked it and dropped it to his stomach. Watching Clint and Laura for a moment. Cooper began snoring from his end of the room and Scott and Cassie seemed to get closer to finishing their death star, or whatever that Scott had gotten for her. 

“Where’s Nat?” Bucky asked, nudging Laura with his foot. She let out an uncomfortable sigh, not wanting to give up the answer. The stiff smile she gave him made his heart sink. 

“She’s… she’s having a moment in the kitchen.” Laura said gently, as if she was breaking news of a divorce, of another death. “We were talking about past Christmases and she got upset, so she went to the kitchen to take a moment.” Bucky removed the blanket from him and got up, feeling a flash of anger at the fact that Laura hadn’t instantly told him. Now wasn’t the moment however. If there ever was a moment. 

Bucky went over to the shut kitchen door and gently knocked his knuckles against the wooden frame. There came no response, so he decided to open the door and to slip inside. He was glad that he did. Natasha was standing leaning against the counter, dabbing her eyes with some kitchen paper, trying to fix the bit of her makeup that had run out and sniffed. Bucky shut the door behind him just as quietly as he had opened it. 

He came up to her, leant against the counter beside her and watched their feet. Natasha sniffed again. “Hey.” He said softly, hoping that his presence at least helped her somewhat. If it did, she wouldn’t say. And if it didn’t… she wouldn’t say that either. 

“Hey.” She said on a hoarse voice, crumbling the kitchen paper up to a ball and crossed her arms underneath her breasts. For a moment they both stood beside one another, watching their patterned socks on the linoleum floor. Bucky didn’t know where to begin, he never did with Natasha, but he always meant well and he was certain that she knew. 

And at times with her it was best to wait and let her take the initiative. One never knew if she wanted to talk or if she just wanted some quiet company. The best way to judge was to just wait and see what she did. And sure enough, she cleared her throat and began to talk. “My therapist. He uhh, he said that there’s a theory about this.” 

Bucky felt surprised at hearing that she went to a therapist. Natasha, locked with her emotions behind a five inch thick steel door opening up to a stranger seemed like such an unlikely image in his head. And yet at the same time it made absolute sense, he thought. 

“He said that, grieving, generally at least takes fifteen months. Did you know that? That during those fifteen months you go through all of the stages, well, at least most people do. It doesn’t apply to everyone. But the point is that after those first fifteen months, that’s when people are able to begin to let go, and move on. Do you know why that is?” Natasha asked him. Bucky shook his head. Natasha sniffed again and continued. 

“He says that, during the first twelve months, you just have a bunch of firsts. You have the first easter without your loved one, your first fourth of July, your first Labor day, Your first birthday, your first birthday of your loved one, your first Halloween. Your first November First. Your First Thanksgiving, your first Christmas.” Her voice cracked a little bit at that. 

“Your first, proper realisation that you’re now alone, and that you’re going through this holidays in such a vastly different way from what you used to. Because you can go about your normal week without mourning sometimes. It can be easy to pretend that he’s just gone for the weekend for work, or with you guys or what not. But the first Holidays, those are the painful reminders. Those are the reminders that you’re not celebrating the way you had those little quirks, you know? Like today, did you know that every morning, that we always slept in. Yes, even me.” Natasha smiled at that memory, but it was sad, and it wrenched Bucky’s heart to watch. 

“Eventually he would get up and make us Pancakes. He’d then move everything in the bedroom and we’d watch Home Alone together. We’d give each other the gifts we had for one another. We’d have sex. And then I would get up and begin making Kutya for us. We’d always eat a portion before coming here. Eating Kutya stands for uniting the family and all that poetic shit. Our families both usually threw up a spoonful to the ceiling, to see if it would stick. Back in the old days it meant if it stuck, that there would be a good harvest or something. We’d always do that. And then we’d come here.” Natasha dried her eyes with the palm of her hand. 

“But this morning Bucky, I woke up and I was alone. I made pancakes, but I couldn't get them right. And I cried. I watched Home Alone, and I couldn’t even make it to the point where the family was about to leave before I had to turn it off. I hid in bed most of the day. I made Kutya, but I didn’t eat it. I got ready, and I brought it along to here. I thought maybe we could do that. But when I knocked on the door it just felt stupid, it felt intruding to share such a habit with all of you. It was something Nik and I did, and it wasn’t meant for you all to do and to know.” 

She took a deep shaky breath and started to tear at the little ball of kitchen paper in her hand. Bucky wasn’t certain if she wanted him to say anything, or do anything. In the end he was glad he chose to do nothing. Natasha continued once more. “I’ve nearly had all the firsts now. Just, New Years left really, Martin Luther King day but we did fuck all, that was just a regular day you know? So that means, I’m starting the final stretch, the three months where I begin to have some seconds. And where I supposedly will realise that I’ve made it this far. And that those seconds will feel just slightly easier, just the faintest bit. And I’ll be able to let go. But the thing is Bucky, I’m not sure I want to let go, I’m not sure I want to move on, I just… I just miss him so fucking much.” 

Natasha’s features began to crumble, her shoulders came up, her eyes pressed shut and the corners of her mouth turned downwards. Her chin began to tremble and he could see the tension take over in her jaw. She covered her eyes with her hand and began to sob. Bucky tore himself away from the counter, moving his arm around Natasha as he pulled her in for a hug, hating himself partially for not being able to hold her properly with one arm. 

Natasha snaked her arms around him, holding him so tightly that she almost squeezed the breath out of him like an anaconda. He didn’t move, he didn’t push her away. Instead he held her as closely as he could while she cried against his chest and allowed her to take all the time that she needed to. He buried his nose in her hair, and wanted to stroke his fingers through it as well. But he felt that if he changed his grip over her that she would melt away in his embrace and seize to exist. 

They stood like that for an unknown amount of time. Bucky hadn’t once glanced to the clock, time had passed quickly enough, and when she finally eased up her grip on him it felt like h hadn’t held her long enough. But her sobbing had eased, her eyes were bloodshot and her cheeks were flushed, what little makeup she had managed to salvage had now run fully down her cheeks. She didn’t say anything and reached for some more kitchen paper and wiped her eyes, then her cheeks and blew her nose. Bucky stroked her arm, eventually lacing his fingers with her hand. 

“I’m here for you, you know that right?” Bucky asked her gently. She nodded, and despite her broken, battered and shattered appearance she managed to smile weakly to him. Squeezing his hand in return. 

“I know. Thank you.” She said on a whisper. She then cleared her throat, and Bucky could visibly see how she pulled herself up by her collar, deciding that she had enough of her pity party and that she would pick herself and the pieces up and move on. “Laura and Clint invited me to stay the night, so I wouldn’t be alone.” 

“Are you taking them up on that?” Bucky asked carefully, and wasn’t surprised when Natasha shook her head, dabbed the kitchen paper at her cheeks again and turned her back to him.

“No. I think it’s not a good thing for me to do. I think I need to go home, and be alone and face that. Because if I don’t, I wont have done all these firsts, and then maybe next year I’ll be home alone, and I’ll have that realisation all over again and I’m back on square one or something. I’m not saying something stupid like, I need to do all this quickly, like a band aid. This is something that I need to take my time with. But it also feels like the right thing to do… for me.” Natasha started to wash her hands, then began to wash her face with the water. Bucky nodded, even if she couldn’t see it, and started to rub his hand in circular motions in an offer for comfort. 

“If it’s what you feel you have to do.” Bucky said in response. Natasha finished washing her face, and when she turned back to him she had cleaned her cheeks of her mascara. They were still pink and puffy, and her eyes still red in a tint not unlike her hair. He pulled her in for a hug again, and this time she wrapped her arms around him gentler, as if she was frightened to hurt him this time around.

“I think that’s the best way.” She said, taking a shaky breath, not the sign of an additional collapse, but the sign of regaining her composure. Bucky could tell the moment she looked up to him again. She seemed more solid on her feet. Her moment of weakness had been short and fleeting, she had it, she had dealt with it, and now she was moving on towards the next step. It was odd to think of her dealing with grief in such a strategic manner, but it was the only way he could see her deal with it. It was the only way he had ever known in the glimpses she had shown to him. 

“So, I’m going to take another minute, I’m going to have a glass of water, and then I’m going to go out there and finish watching that film with the others. I’m going to have a good time with them, Clint is going to try and convince me to stay, and then I’m going to go home and I’m going to deal with it in whichever shape or form it comes.” She declared, adjusting her clothes and her hair. 

Bucky couldn’t help but smile at that, strong Natasha, locking herself away behind her five inch steel door, tackling something like mourning strategically. And he knew by the look in her eyes that she was going to be just fine, and that he didn’t have to worry at all. So he hugged her one last time and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, and let her go because she was a grown woman, who didn’t need anyone’s help to make it through life. She hadn’t even needed Nik’s help. And the beauty of their marriage and relationship had been that Nik understood that. 

-

“Hey Steve?” Bucky poked the spoon down into the ice cream bucket again in his lap, wrapped safely in a towel so he wouldn’t give himself a frostbite by keeping it into place with his thighs. Steve, mouthful of ice cream as he watched the movie flickering on the screen only hummed. “When you lost your mom… what was that like?” 

Bucky looked up and saw Steve staring at him like a question mark, spoon still in his mouth. “Sorry, it’s just something someone said to me today and I can’t stop thinking about it. It’s to personal is it? I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer.” Bucky said, scooped up the icecream and ate it, looking back to Steve’s television and thanked whichever bright person who thought it was a great idea to show The Lord of the Ring movies on Christmas Day. 

“I don’t know, I guess I’ve never really thought about it. I’m an expert at not really thinking about those sort of things.” Steve said quietly, then cleared his throat. “I mean. She was sick, so I kind of saw it coming. She knew it was coming, I knew it was coming. So you think you’re prepared for when it actually happens. And in a weird way you are. You go about it, you accept it. But at the same time there’s still a sense of disbelief about it. And you can’t accept it, you refuse. For me there was still a childish anger that the doctors could have done more which now. I realise, they couldn't.” Steve shrugged. Bucky didn’t look at the screen anymore, he just kept his eyes on Steve, who spoke about it with such ease. 

“I didn’t feel like me for the longest of time after that. You know?” Steve chuckled a bit, warm, not breaking. Instead reliving fond memories of a time he had now come to terms with, something he had accepted and moved on from. He smiled to Bucky, bright and dazzling and beautiful, even if there was something in his eyes. Something still stuck from the boy that he had been when his mother had died. 

“Because all my life, I was Sarah Rogers son. Sarah Rogers son who got beat up in an alley. Sarah Rogers son who broke that kids nose for bullying again. Sarah Rogers son who had to be taken out of PE because he had an asthma attack. Sarah Rogers son who won that art competition. And when she died, people still said that, there goes Sarah Rogers son, she’s gone now and her son is alone.” Steve was quiet for a moment after that, then shrugged his shoulders as if he was shaking it off and scooped another spoon of ice cream in his mouth. “Problem was, I didn’t see myself as that. I couldn’t see myself as Sarah Rogers son, because Sarah Rogers was no more, you know what I mean? And it took me a long time to move away from being Sarah Rogers son, to becoming me. To becoming Steven Grant Rogers and become my own person. Does that make sense.” 

“It does.” Bucky said, looking down to his bucket of now melting ice cream and decided he had enough. He put it on the living room table and grabbed the lid for it. He paused, biting his lip as he glanced to Steve, wondering if he was overstepping by asking. Wondering if Steve would want him to open up in return. But he still went for it, curiosity greater than the fear. “How long did it take? To break away from being Sarah Rogers son and find Steve Rogers?” Bucky asked, wondering if that was part of Natasha’s struggle. Wondering if she was breaking away from being Nik’s wife, and finding herself as Natasha Romanoff again. It seemed possible, while at the same time he had trouble seeing Natasha as an entity dependant on Nik. She had always been Natasha. He had never seen her as Nik’s wife during their marriage, she had always just been Natasha Romanoff to him. But maybe she didn’t see it that way. 

Steve cast his eyes up to the ceiling, thinking. Bucky waited in anticipation and pressed the lid on top of his ice cream bucket. “A year and a half, before I started to feel better and started to find myself again I think? Being in the army the moment I graduated out of school helped a lot. Gave me a proper focus. Art helped to, helped me digest a lot of things.” Steve paused, looking at Bucky with a curious expression. “Why?” 

“She just said something, about how one grieves for fifteen months. Go through a bunch of firsts, and that one really can’t move on until you’ve done all that. I just kept thinking about it. I never lost anyone that close to me like that. Just… friends.” Bucky halted himself, it felt weird to think of Nik as just that, Nik had been so much more than that. Nik had been family. Nik had been an essential part of Fever Delirium. And the overwhelming urge overcame him to tell Steve about Nik. A bitter feeling stopped him from doing it however. Nik wasn’t his tale to tell, he reminded himself. “So I guess I just wanted to see from someone who’s been in a position like that, see if there might be any truth to her thoughts.”

“I think that there is. You know Sam? He’s a therapists. Works mostly with veterans and trauma and such like that. But I was around a lot when he was studying for school, helped him a lot with it. And it seems like an entirely normal human reaction.” Steve shrugged a little bit and reached for the lid of his own ice cream bucket. “But I’m not the one with a degree of course, worth noting. He is. And shoves it in people’s face whenever he can because he worked for it, he says.” Steve chuckled and stood up, taking his and Bucky’s ice cream bucket to go and put them back in the fridge. 

Bucky waited for Steve to return, watching the movie that was being played without actually registering what was happening in it. Steve returned not long after, Bucky heard the thud of the fridge closing and the clatter of the spoons in the sink. Steve returned, coming to sit down on the arm of the couch and pulled in Bucky, giving him a kiss on the top of his head. “Let’s talk about something else hmm?” Steve brushed his fingers through Bucky’s hair, and he felt him relaxed. 

“I know we said that we wouldn’t get one another anything because we’ve only known each other for a month. But I saw something- something small!” Steve pointed out very quickly as Bucky began to protest, turning to him. “I swear, something small, cost me like four dollars. And I had to get it for you.” 

Bucky huffed, he couldn’t argue now. Especially not when Steve began to smile like he did and pulled the small present out of the pocket of his hoodie and handed it over to Bucky. “Go on, open it.” Steve urged with a nod, flashing teeth and looking wholeheartedly wholesome again that it could warm any chill from anyone’s body. And currently worked very well to make Bucky feel warm again after all the ice cream that had chilled him down.

So not wanting to be rude, Bucky tried his best to open it. And found that either Steve was really lousy at wrapping presents or he had purposely wrapped it shittily so Bucky could open it with ease. Whatever the reason, he was grateful. When he got the blue wrapping paper of, Bucky gripped the small plastic package out and frowned at it. “A lighter?” Bucky asked, slightly confused.

“It doesn’t say it on the package, but it’s supposed to be a windproof lighter.” Steve tapped the package. “I saw it in a grocery store. Basically what it does instead of having that little flame like most lighters do, this one has a very small, but strong little jet of a flame instead. Supposedly strong enough so it doesn’t go out during windy weather. I thought that could be something for you, seeing you told me it was frustrating to have your friends to come and help you all the time for just a smoke.” Steve suddenly seemed nervous, Bucky could feel the tiny minuscule shifts in how he was sitting on the arm of the couch, how the grip of his shoulder had gotten slightly harder. Afraid of having overstepped, afraid of upsetting him for intruding, Bucky realised now. 

Except he wasn’t. As Bucky had gotten the explanation he had begun to grin. Not that Steve had been able to see it underneath Bucky’s mop of hair. So he looked up to Steve, hoping that the childish excitement was a very clear giveaway at how he felt over the present and the initiative that Steve had taken. Lighter package still in between his thumb and index finger, he moved his hand up to Steve’s neck and pulled him down for a kiss. 

Steve exclaimed a sound of surprise, lost his balance in the kiss and fell forward in the couch alongside with Bucky, who ended up in an uncomfortable crook for his back. But he didn’t care, how could he? “That was the best present I’ve gotten this year.” Bucky told him once their kiss was ended, Steve’s laughter got muffled in Bucky’s shoulder and he looked at the lighter again.

“It’s half a blizzard outside, can I go try it? Come on let’s go try it!” Bucky tapped Steve on his shoulder to get him off, and the moment he could shimmy out underneath of Steve and ended up on his knees on the floor. He handed it over to Steve. “Come on open it up for me please?” Bucky kissed him again, the hard plastic would be a disaster for him to cut open with a pair of scissors unless he had an intention of stabbing himself in his abdomen. Which Bucky did not.

Steve only snickered, grabbed the package and bounced out to the kitchen. Bucky in the meantime, went to the hallway to step into his shoes and pulled on his coat. By the time that Steve returned he was all dressed and ready to go, Bucky had pulled on his hat to keep his hair in somewhat place during the wind, but ignored his scarf.

Steve handed over the bright blue lighter and stepped into his own shoes. Trying to keep a straight face as Bucky urged him to hurry up. And the moment Steve was dressed, had his keys in his hand, Bucky grabbed the other and dragged him along downstairs. 

The cold wind slammed into them the moment they were back out on the street, making both of them nearly lose their balance at the sudden force. Snowflakes darting across the sky, intending to make the following morning difficult for all New Yorkers and make Holiday visitors from up North wonder why there was no one walking in the streets anymore. Bucky spun around, slipped the lighter in his pocket and fished out a cigarette. 

“Well hurry up, I want to see!” Steve even urged, bouncing on the spot either from excitement that Bucky had infected him with or from cold. Either way, Bucky found the sight utterly adorable. Bucky placed the cigarette in between his lips and took out the lighter from his pocket. 

“Moment of truth.” Bucky said, Steve held his breath. Watching with alert eyes at scene that was evolving in front of him. Bucky pressed down the black button, glad that it wasn’t a wheel, and saw instead of a flickering yellow flame, a small blue jet of flame that Steve had told him about. He held it against the cigarette, and took a breath, successfully lighting it himself in the middle of a blizzard without anyone having to help him. 

Bucky stared at the cigarette at first, absolutely dumbfounded at what had happened right in front of his eyes. It wasn’t until he took another drag and saw the tip of the cigarette crumble with ash, small specks of yellow indicating a smoulder and feeling the smoke in his lungs, that Bucky realised what just had happened. 

And he started jumping on the spot, feeling an uttermost glee at the prospect of being able to go out whenever he wanted, in weather however terrible and light the cigarette without having to ask anyone to come along. Without having anyone interrupt his five minutes of peace to ask him if he wanted another one, no matter how well meaning they were. The excitement and joy it gave him to know that there was one small task in his life that now had gotten easier, that had gotten normalised, something he struggled with that others mostly overlooked simply because they weren’t aware of it, suddenly made him feel like bright yellow and fireworks and laughter rippling through him. 

And Steve was also jumping in excitement along with him. Bucky jumped towards him, moving his arm around Steve’s neck and pulled him in, not caring at that moment how ridiculous they might look to anyone looking out into the street of seeing two grown men jump on the sidewalk.

“This is the best fucking present I’ve gotten my entire life!” Bucky told Steve, kissing his bearded cheek first before giving Steve a deep kiss, wanting to show his gratitude in every possible way he could imagine. He could feel Steve grin against his lips. “Thank you, thank you thank you thank you.” Bucky repeated over and over in between kisses, completely forgetting that he had a cigarette to smoke. But that hadn’t been why he had come out here in the first place. He had come out here to see if the lighter had worked. And it had. 

“I’m happy you like it.” Steve looked dizzy, smiling as wide as he did and swaying a little bit. Bucky looked back at the cigarette, glee in his face as if the love of his life had handed him a wedding ring and asked to marry him. Hell, Steve could have asked Bucky to marry him at that moment and that instant if he wanted, and Bucky felt confident that he would have blurted out a yes if the question had been asked. “Stay the night with me?” Steve spoke so quickly, so unexpectedly, that Bucky felt how his brain stopped to function. And he looked to Steve, surprised, happy. 

“What?” He asked, smile still there and just wanting to make sure that he had heard Steve correctly, that in his glee he wasn’t imagining things. Steve only repeated himself.

“Stay the night with me?” Steve muttered, realising now what he had dared to ask. “I mean, just, stay? It doesn’t have to mean anything we can just sleep. We don’t have to do anything and I mean, I can stay on the couch and you can take the bed if it makes you feel better. Just… stay the night with me, please?” Steve leant against the building. 

“Of course.” Bucky said on a soft tone, he came up to Steve and kissed him again. “I would love to spend the night Stevie. Besides, you can’t send a cripple home in the middle of a blizzard now can you?” Bucky teased. Steve rolled his eyes and gave Bucky a shove, making the other snicker. Bucky just came back up to him and kissed him once more. “You don’t have to sleep on the couch Steve, it’s your home. Besides, we’re both adults, I think we can survive one night without shoving our hands down the others pants now can we?” Bucky purred to him, planting another lighter kiss on Steve’s lips. 

“Yeah.” Steve agreed, placing his hand in Bucky’s neck to keep him in place and couldn’t resist planting another kiss on his lips as well. “Now hurry up and finish your cigarette, it’s fucking freezing.” 

Bucky just offered it to Steve. “Break it off for me please? I just wanted to see if I could light it.” Steve did as he was asked.

-

“Okay that is just not fucking fair, jesus christ Steve.” Bucky sat on the edge of Steve’s bed, stripped out of his trousers and just left in boxers and T-shirt. Steve looked down himself, and then back up to Bucky, suddenly worried. 

“What?” He asked, placing a hand on his chest and still held his clothes in his other. Maybe he should have been decent and put on a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt. He had always slept in just his boxers, always having felt far to warm in the middle of the night to be dressed. And if he dared to dress he would wake up with a headache. Bucky had said just minutes before that he didn’t care, and for Steve to sleep how he usually slept. And now he felt like a moron for a reason he couldn’t explain. “What did I do?” 

“Nothing! But have you looked in the mirror recently? Jesus you’re like a greek statue, it’s not fair for a person to be that good looking, you’re making the rest of the world feel inadequate. Christ I should have known you were ripped just look at you!” Bucky ranted, and the more he went on the more that Steve relaxed, especially when he saw the smile in the other. Steve tossed his clothes onto the designated clothes chair and joined Bucky on the bed, shuffling behind Bucky and kissed him in his neck. “Not fair.” Bucky repeated. “Clint was right you know. You’re the freaking love child between Hercules and Mother Teresa.” 

“Yeah what the hell was that supposed to mean?” Steve asked, Bucky shifted in his arms, pulled his legs up on the bed and turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow, almost as if Steve had asked a stupid question. 

“Body of a greek god. Aka, Hercules.” Bucky gestured over Steve’s torso. Then patted Steve’s chest. “Heart of gold, which for the record, comes over very clearly every damn time you smile. I swear it makes flowers grow through the concrete with that ray of sunshine you let out. So Mother Teresa.” Bucky then placed his hand on his own chest, and said very seriously. “Hobo.” 

“Good looking hobo.” Steve teased, Bucky rolled his eyes and gave Steve a shove, making the other lay down on the bed as he chuckled. 

“Hobo still.” Bucky muttered, but with a lopsided grin that only told Steve he wasn’t beating himself up about it. He then moved over to Steve, taking the other’s hand in his own and leant in for a kiss, moving over Steve’s waist to straddle him and oh. When Bucky kissed him Steve couldn’t think of anything, his mind went blank, and all he was aware of was the weight of Bucky’s body against his and the feel of the other’s thigh under his other hand. “Know what we could do while still keeping things above the belt and PG 13. Well, sorta?” Bucky purred to him, nipping at the skin in Steve’s neck. 

“Make out?” It was the first and only thing that popped in Steve’s mind. He found it difficult to think clear, and Bucky certainly knew that he wasn’t making things easier. He wanted nothing more than to roll them over, strip them both out of the last remaining pieces of clothes that they were dressed in and take it all the way. But he couldn’t do that, he wanted to respect Bucky’s desire to take it slow. 

“Among others.” Bucky whispered, kissing Steve on his lips again before pulling away, and wearing such a wicked grin that it made the Devil seem like a saint. “But what I was thinking, is we could also, like thirteen year old boys, make out and grind until eventually one of us cums in their underwear, what do you think?”

“That does sounds pretty hot.” Steve swallowed, when had his throat had the time to go dry? Bucky bit on his lower lip again, and then Steve felt his light fingers in his neck, stroking over the skin so lightly that Steve felt the touch all the way to his spine. 

“Yeah?” Bucky kissed Steve again, and then paused. He moved up and frowned as he looked down to Steve. “What?” 

“I mean.” Steve shifted slightly underneath Bucky, adoring the sight of the other on top of him like that. It still made it hard to think with the weight over him. He still held Bucky’s thigh and swallowed. “Do you want to? You said to take it slow, so I just… I don’t want you to feel like you have to.” Bucky’s reaction to that only reassured Steve, relaxed him and told him that he was fretting over nothing. 

“Stevie, if I didn’t want to I wouldn’t have suggested it, okay sweetheart?” He asked, Steve nodded feverishly, already growing to love the new nickname even if he had only heard it once before. And to show his enthusiasm he pulled Bucky down by his neck to kiss him again, wanting Bucky to feel the desire that Steve held for him. He hummed delighted in the kiss and allowed Steve to roll them over so he wound up on top, and Bucky easily allowed Steve to shift in between his legs. 

“Hands above belt.” Steve began in between a kiss. Bucky looked at him with those bright steel eyes that now even managed to seem dark. Maybe it was the same amount of desire coursing through his body, maybe it was the light. Steve truly didn’t care. He smirked. “Grinding allowed, like kids figuring out each other. Game rules?” Steve wanted the verbal confirmation. 

“Game rules.” Bucky confirmed, grinning as he took the initiative, moving his hips towards Steve who stifled a groan. “Game on.” Bucky muttered in their kiss, and at that moment Steve allowed himself to relax, to give in to instincts, and to kiss Bucky with all his heart and learning more and more that Bucky was a talented kisser. 

His hands trailed over Bucky’s body, exploring and mapping through the fabric of his t-shirt. Not wanting to intrude and slide his hand under, even if all that Steve wanted was to feel the other’s skin against his palm. Rules were rules, and while he never had played well with them during his life, Steve intended to follow them to the end at that moment. 

He loved hearing the soft moans and occasional whimpers that Bucky let out, he loved brushing his hands through Bucky’s soft hair and deepen their kisses, tongues learning a dance together. He loved the feel of Bucky’s thighs under his palm, feeling his legs move along with Steve’s touch, the feel of his leg hair tickling Steve’s touch. The feel of Bucky’s cock against his own, still shrouded in mystery and friction from their underwear but damn if it didn’t cause jolts of electricity to race through his body. 

And Bucky, Bucky knew exactly what to do. How to touch Steve, when to move against him in harmony, making Steve wonder if the other had some level of sixth sense or if he knew exactly how to read Steve. A part of him, the romantic within him wanted to think that they were just meant to be. 

The heat that built in between them was intoxicating, locking out all possibility of clear thought and making what was at the core a simple act in between the pair of them far far more intimate and erotic than anything else Steve had ever encountered in his life with anyone else. He breathed out a curse, feeling how Bucky laughed underneath him and how his fingers ghosted over his back. He felt goosebumps on his arm. 

So when Steve came, tensing up the muscles in his back, breathing out another moan, feeling how Bucky held him in place with his fingers in his blonde hair. Whispering soothing and coaxing words in his ears, and walking him through it. It was the most connected Steve had ever felt with a person. 

Feeling his body go slack, Steve came to rest on top of Bucky, forgetting all about time and place as Bucky stroked his hair, whispering to him. Eventually he swallowed, licked his lips and turned Bucky’s head slightly to kiss him. “That was…” Steve didn’t know the right word to explain how he felt. 

“Fucking hot?” Bucky came so bluntly, so matter of fact that Steve couldn’t help but laugh and agree. He kissed him again. “Fucking hot.” Bucky repeated. They shared some more kisses with one another, slow and intense, fingers stroking the other’s skin. “Steve?” 

“Hmm?” Steve started pressing kisses against Bucky’s neck, slowly working himself up again. Slowly putting his focus back on the world and the person underneath him. 

“Steve.” Bucky repeated. Getting his attention by making Steve look at him. 

“It’s your turn now. Let me, for you?” Steve tried to say, but Bucky smiled at him in the sweetest way, stroking his index finger over Steve’s swollen lips. 

“Go clean up first, go save that wonderful pair of boxer briefs you’re wearing that frame your ass in such a perfect manner okay? I won't go anywhere, I promise.” Bucky assured him. Steve hesitated at first, then he pulled himself up to kiss Bucky before bouncing away from him. 

“I’ll be back in less than a second, just a flash!” Steve assured him, grabbing a fresh pair from the wardrobe and darted into the bathroom. He heard Bucky laugh from the bed. Steve tried to clean up as fast as he could, rinsed his boxer briefs under water before tossing it into the washing machine. He raced back to the bedroom, and found Bucky sitting up on the edge of the bed. Steve knelt down in front of him, leaning up to kiss him. Instead he felt Bucky press his hand gently on his chest, and felt him pull back. “Bucky… what about you? That if something is not fair that you don’t-”

“Steve.” Bucky cut him off gently, and brushed his fingers again through his blonde hair. It seemed like he had gotten a fondness for doing that. “It’s okay. I’m fine, you don’t have to.” Steve looked at him, intently, watching for any sorts of falter in any possible cracks that Bucky had a habit of letting show slowly and discretely, but he found none. 

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked gently, still remaining on the floor, lowering himself now so he looked up to Bucky instead. Bucky shook his head and took Steve’s hand, looking at their hands entwining their fingers.

“Nothing, nothing it’s just… god I’m going to sound like I’m a hundred years old now.” Bucky laughed a bit, then scooted further up on the bed. Tapping the bed for Steve to join. He did, sitting in front of Bucky and taking his hand. Steve kept watching him, searching for any indication to go off, he wasn't certain if he should be worried, or if he should relax. The silence, the not knowing made it difficult to remain calm. The smile, the sheer genuinity of it made him take Bucky for his word. 

“Sometimes. Uhm. Since.” Bucky gestured over his left shoulder to indicate what he meant. Steve nodded, freeing Bucky from having to say it. An appreciative look came over him. “Since then I kind off… well, let’s put it this way. It is a lot easier at times to get it up, and… sometimes downright impossible to finish. And there’s a tiny window and when that window closes. It just… well, you know. It’s all up here.” Bucky tapped the side of his head. “I’m sorry, I should have said something.” 

Steve breathed a sigh of relief. “No, no it’s okay Buck it really is.” Steve took his hand again and squeezed. “Jesus I was terrified I had done something wrong. If it’s just that then… then I understand. And I am very sorry that I missed the window for you.” 

“It’s okay.” Bucky shrugged, that devilish lopsided grin coming back. “I miss that window myself all the time. And besides. I got you to cum in your underwear like a thirteen year old boy so. That definitely made my evening.” 

“That was pretty intense.” Steve agreed, Bucky winked at him and shifted further up to the bed, sliding his legs underneath the sheets. Steve joined him, allowing Bucky to position himself in the most comfortable way against him and slid an arm around him. 

“Stevie?” Bucky spoke after a couple minutes of silence. Steve hummed in response, planting a kiss in Bucky’s neck as he did. “You’re about as warm as a fucking furnace. Has anyone ever told you that?” 

-

It felt like plastic had been wrapped around Bucky’s arm again when he woke up. 

He muttered a curse to himself, covering his eyes with his hand. At some point during the night Steve had rolled away. When Bucky looked to his left, he saw Steve sleeping on his stomach, hugging his pillow and buried his face in it. Bucky looked back up to the ceiling and shut his eyes. He imagined he flexed his fingers, and made a fist. Sometimes it helped, imagining that he was using his left arm. Like he would be waking a sleeping limb of and the feeling would go away. 

It was a hit and miss, sometimes Bucky was lucky and that would be all that was needed and it would go away. Sometimes he was less lucky, and found that nothing could be done and he would have to suck it up until it went by on it’s own. The problem however, was that he could never tell how bad it would get. The positive side was, even if he didn’t, it didn’t matter, he got equally annoyed and frustrated at it anyhow. A light itch could bring him to his knees just as fast as the feeling like his arm had been set aflame. 

He took another deep breath, in through his nose and out through his mouth like Laura had taught him. Sometimes it helped him refocus, lose a little bit of tension. But it was taking all of his self control and willpower to not reach over to his left side in an attempt to massage muscles that weren’t there. And that alone made it hurt. 

Bucky did that a couple of times, trying his best not to hold any expectations of it fading. But one never wanted to be in pain or uncomfortable, and he knew that if it felt like his former arm had been wrapped in something, that it would become unbearable if it had the chance to continue. He sat up in the bed, bringing his forehead to his knees and did the breathing exercise again while he held his waist. 

Steve stirred beside him, making a noise in protest and Bucky felt Steve’s fingers over his back. He didn’t move, instead he finished the breathing exercise. “What are you doing?” Steve asked and stirred again. Bucky rested his cheek to his knees, and watched how Steve with the body of a Greek god was laying on his side. He smiled a bit and pressed his forehead back to his knees. “Everything alright?”

“I don’t know yet.” Bucky confessed, took another breath and then straightened up. His left arm stayed safely wrapped up in whatever his mind had conjured up. Steve didn’t say anything at first, he just watched Bucky before sitting up and scooting closer to him. Bucky squirmed out of Steve’s well meaning touch, knowing that all Steve wanted to do was to offer comfort by holding Bucky, but all it did was put his brain into sensory overload. “Sorry I’m just, I’m working through something.” 

“Are you freediving?” Steve asked, remaining beside Bucky in case he changed his mind. Still trying to be close and offering help if he could. Bucky chuckled a little bit and shook his head. His hair fell in front of his eyes. 

“No, I wish it was panic though, at least to that there’s some logic.” Bucky admitted. With panic, the breathing exercises had proven to work. With those, he knew that he just needed to find an outlet, that it was temporary and that it would go away, no matter how terrifying it might seem at that moment, and how hard it was to believe at that time. “Uhm, my arm hurts. The uhh, the one I don’t have anymore.” 

“Oh…” Steve seemed surprised at that, and Bucky could almost feel how Steve looked over his side, still searching for something to blame it on. Some actual, logical reason as to why he was feeling an ache in a limb that he didn’t have. “I’ve heard about that. But more, that people think that they still have it and feel it and all that.” 

“I do that to.” Bucky admitted, straightening up and rolled his shoulder. “All the damn time really.” Bucky laughed a little but, he found it a little bit funny, but by gods he couldn’t explain why. He still felt his touch all over his body at times, felt the touch of ghost fingers scratching, reaching for something, stretching. At times he could hold his other arm above his head to stretch and he could almost feel how his fingertips touched one another. “This… This is something different. I mean, it doesn’t hurt yet, but if it keeps going like this, it will.” 

Steve sat beside him quietly, and Bucky began to rub his neck, attempting to loosen the muscles he was tensing up without any need. “What is it like?” Steve shifted on the bed, turning more to look at Bucky with those god damn blue eyes of concern. “I mean, to feel something in… in something you don’t have. When it hurts?” Bucky had to admire Steve for having the balls to say it outright. To admit that he was down a limb and not dance around the topic. Bucky swallowed. “Do you want some water?”

Bucky nodded, and Steve got off the bed. He disappeared from the room and left Bucky alone, who took the moment of privacy to take a deep breath and to lean forward, this time pressing his forehead against the bed and squeezed his shoulder. By the time he straightened up again Steve returned with a glass of water. 

“Thanks.” Bucky thanked him and took a sip, letting the cold water ease his dried throat. He licked his lips, trying to do his best to figure out how to explain it. “Right now it’s like… imagine a mosquito bite. You get bit, you have it, and you can walk around with it all day without noticing it right?” Steve nodded. “But then you notice it, and suddenly it’s all you can think of. And because it’s there, it itches, at every damn turn you take and you scratch and you scratch and it just seems to get worse right? And you can keep scratching it until you’re bleeding and it still won't be enough. Sometimes it’s like that.” 

“Except now, it’s just the concept of it. For all sake I would have woken up, not noticed it and gone about my day until I did notice it. I just noticed it when I woke up.” Bucky looked to Steve, trying to judge if the other understood. 

“I can understand that metaphor. Sounds… rough.” Steve was at lack for better words, it didn’t matter, for as far as Bucky was concerned he had hit the nail on the head. He nodded. 

“And now, uhm, this is going to sound weird but. Imagine someone took your left arm and wrapped it up in plastic.” Bucky began. Steve frowned at that. “Just that feeling.” He waited an additional few seconds before Steve nodded. “And now, imagine that every… thirty something minutes there’s someone that rotates a dial, and every time that person does that, the plastic gets just a little bit tighter. As if someone is vacuum sealing your arm. And they keep doing that. Every thirty minutes until it gets so bad that you feel that your arm is going to be crushed.”

Steve nodded again, he had started to worry. Bucky could tell at the way that Steve looked at him. “And now, imagine that the arm they does that on. Isn’t there, there is no limb there to crush. But you still have that feeling, and you carry it with you all day long because it’s all up here.” Bucky tapped the side of his head. “And there’s nothing you or anyone can do about it, because you’re feeling pain in something that doesn’t exist any longer. You can’t rub your arm, you can’t massage it, you can’t take painkillers, you can’t work it loose, you can’t just, roll your arm around in your shoulder and shake the feeling. It’s not there, but your brain is still convinced that it’s there, and it’s going into overdrive because a part of you is clearly hurting, why aren’t your reflexes kicking in to save you from the pain, why aren’t you doing anything to stop it? So it just. It goes complete haywire in here and you get stressed and.” Bucky felt himself get worked up, he took a breath, in through his nose, exhale through his mouth. “And you just, have to wait it out. Sometimes it takes ten minutes, sometimes it takes all fucking day and all fucking night.”

“Fuck.” Steve muttered, lack of better words to say. But once again he hit the head of the nail with the hammer, and slammed the two inch nail straight into the floorboard with one slam. 

“Yeah.” Bucky chuckled softly. “Fuck.” He shut his eyes. “It’s not always like this though. I can’t choose which one is worse. The sharp shooting pains, the times it feels like someone doused it in gasoline and set it on fire. Or the times where it feels like someone slowly is driving over it, breaking every bone all over again. Or when it just… is a cunt and itches.” Bucky shrugged, feeling the tension in his neck as he did. He rubbed his shoulder again, unable of stopping himself. 

“I think I should go home Steve, it’s not relenting and… well, I get nasty when it doesn’t pass. I don’t want you to have to deal with that. It’s not fair. Besides, I should go home and feed Anya.” Bucky gave Steve a kind smile. And Steve, bless his golden heart, only brushed some of Bucky’s hair behind his ear and nodded. 

“Okay. I understand that.” Steve leant in, placing a kiss on Bucky’s cheek. “I can’t tempt you with some breakfast before you go?” 

“That’s kind Steve.” Bucky wanted to melt into the touch. “But I should go.” And with that, Bucky moved to the edge of the bed and picked up his pants from the floor. “I had a very good night though, I want you to know that.” 

“Hey Bucky?” Steve started, Bucky paused with his jeans, keeping them around his ankles and looked at Steve. He watched the other, saw how he bit on his lower lip. A hint Bucky had learned of the past few weeks that Steve was choosing his words carefully. Steve took his hand again. 

“Do you have any plans for New Years Eve?” Steve asked him, and somehow Bucky got a feeling in his stomach that it wasn’t the question that Steve had been wanting to ask him. 

“Well.” Bucky shuffled back over to Steve, placing a hand in his chest and kissing him again. “I do now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter wound up longer than I planned to, but it turned out rather nicely I think. As usual, thanks for reading again! In the next chapter Steve gets deepened a bit as a character and what he goes through, and Bucky and Steve entering the New Year together. 
> 
> It took me up until this point to figure out where I wanted the story to go, and to realise myself that it is a story about grief, moving on and dealing with things. Slow me, yay! It is very likely that my writing/posting pace will slow down a little bit. School begins tomorrow, and school does not like to cooperate with my working hours, and work does not like to cooperate with school hours. Doesn't help that work is nighttime and school is daytime. And on top of that I'm taking two uni courses, one of which is a writing course. I still got plenty of muse though, but a weekly update rather than a twice weekly update seems more realistic I think. Have a good one!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Steve has a minor panic moment, Sam is a good bro, Tony is a rich good generous bro, New Years happens, Steve and Bucky become a thing, and some more sexiness.

“Where the fuck, am I going to find something for us to do on such short notice Sam?” Steve questioned his friend over the phone, passing by an elderly lady on the sidewalk that didn’t seem to know the definition of haste. Well, she probably did, but was unable of it, the guilt flashed through Steve for only a short second before the anxiety got him again. “Food? I don’t think so, do you know how many places are fully booked or closed for New Years Eve? I’ll give you a hint Sam, all of them. And do you know how many places are shut where we could do something? All of them Sam, all of them!” 

“ _Come on now Steve, you’re exaggerating._ ” Steve heard the shuffle of papers. “ _About half of the clubs, bars, movies, whatever Steve, are shut. The other half are open and profiting of the other half. About half of the restaurants are shut, and yes the others are fully booked, also profiting. Big deal, you know Tony. Give him a call and ask for a favor. Lord knows does he owe you hundreds of favors._ ”

“I’m not giving Tony a call just so he can help me get a reservation. He’ll never let me hear the end of it.” Steve protested, instantly wondering why he had even called Sam for support when all he heard was the other groan on the other end of the line. “Sam be honest now, he would.” 

“ _Steve, he’d give you shit for it for like five minutes before he’d let it go and be happy for your sake. You know how he is, genuine, generous all that bullcrap. Hell, asking him to help you out will probably make his day and give him that blasted skip in his step and make him sleep that night. Steve just do it. It’s just a reservation._ ” 

“Fine.” Steve grunted, hating how Sam could always see a matter so objectively. Get his point across and make it downright impossible for Steve to argue. Steve knew that Tony would love to help him out, and Steve knew that deep down he was making a little bit of a scene over being teased about it for five minutes. Stress did nasty things to a person, he found. “Hey Sam?” 

“ _What is up my man?_ ” Sam must have slammed a drawer shut. The music that Steve had been hearing in the background skipped by the force of it and Sam cursed. 

“Do you think you’ve got time to see me today? Like for lunch or something? I need to talk to you.” Steve pressed in the code by the door to his apartment building, waited for the buzz and then let himself in. 

“ _Talk as a friend or talk to me as the psychologist that you’re not paying me for that I really should bill you for?_ ” 

“Lunch Sam.” Steve decided for the stairs to avoid the line disconnecting in the elevator. “And maybe a little bit of both. I just want to ask you some things. See what you think. Get some advice?” 

“ _I’m cleaning up my desk now, taking lunch after. Want to meet at that Bistro, give or take forty minutes?_ ” 

“I’ll be there, see you later.” Steve hung up on Sam, knowing that the other would have returned the gesture without missing a beat. If he hadn’t already beat him to it. Steve went inside of his apartment, packed out the groceries that he had purchased previously, and then decided to head out instantly. 

He needed the brisk walk, and it did him good. By the time that he arrived at the Bistro he felt a lot calmer, more at ease with himself. So he went inside, saw that Sam hadn’t arrived yet and snagged them both a table and ordered some sparkling water while he waited. Steve spent the next ten minutes people watching, preferring that over scrolling through his cellphone. 

Sam joined him and sat down in front of Steve, shrugging out of his coat. “My appointment at one cancelled on me again, surprise, so I’m all yours until two. Will that be enough for you to lift all your woes and make you feel better?” Sam winked to Steve. 

“Very funny.” Steve snorted and watched how Sam got the attention of a waitress, ordered some sparkling water himself and instantly placed the order for his usual sandwich. Steve placed a safe bet and ordered a chicken salad. The girl tapped it into the phone she held in her hands and walked off. 

“Seriously though.” Sam crossed his arms and leant over the table, expression going serious now and relieving Steve of any jabs that he had intended on making, however tempting. “What can I lend you my expertise for?” 

Steve shifted in his seat, suddenly feeling uncomfortable with what he was about to ask. In a way it felt like betrayal, even if all his intention was good. All Steve wanted to do was to learn, was to educate himself and know better what to do. He wanted to be able to help. “In your work, you work a lot with trauma right?” 

“Post Traumatic Stress is a result of trauma. You know that, it’s in the name Steve.” Sam said without sounding obnoxious, thanked the waitress who brought him a glass and a bottle of sparkling water. 

“Right.” Steve licked his lips, he leant in over the table. “Trauma comes in many shapes or forms right?” Steve watched Sam nod, placing his glass against his lips. “Not just… like I had, with panic attacks and nightmares and not being able to stand fireworks for the longest of time, from memories and stuff as triggers. Like you told me about. But trauma can also be just losing a limb right? Doesn’t necessarily have to be… from explosions and stepping on bombs like we saw, right?” 

“You want to understand him better.” Sam stated instantly, not beating around the push and put his glass down on the table again. Steve nodded. “To answer your question. Yes. Losing a limb, no matter how it goes down can be a trauma. And seeing you’re asking me, I’m going to go out ahead and say that yes. For your boyfriend it was a traumatic experience most likely. What happened?” 

“That’s the thing. He hasn’t told me what happened so I don’t know. And he doesn’t have to.” Steve interrupted Sam, knowing full and well that was what the other was about to say. “But he struggles with it, and sometimes he tells me things and sometimes he doesn't. That’s fine too, he can tell me what he wants me to know and he can take the rest with him to the grave. I just… I just want to know more how it works, in his head, that’s all. And he’s not my boyfriend. We haven’t had that talk yet.” 

“You should have that talk.” Sam said with a shrug. 

“See that’s the thing. I was going to have that talk with him yesterday morning. He spent the night.” Steve gestured with his hand, dismissing any follow up questions. “I thought it would be a good time then. But when we woke up he told me about that thing, where one can feel pain in a limb that’s not there anymore? He was having that.” 

“Oh yeah, that’s a real blast for anyone suffering from it.” Sam mused. “That’s what a lot of them struggle the most with. The itch they can’t scratch, and learning to accept help. But Steve, if he’s talking to you about it at times, then why are you asking me about it? Why don’t you just listen to what he says?” 

“Because I want to know what not to do and what I can do. I don’t want to make any stupid mistakes that’s all.” Steve leant back in his seat, the girl had arrived and gave him his chicken salad, but upon looking at it he found that he had no appetite at all. In fact, while the salad would have been an instagram hit, to Steve it looked downright revolting. Sam didn’t seem to have the same issue with his sandwich and took a large bite. 

“Well Steve listen.” Sam spoke, mouth full with french bread, cheese, ham, egg and mayo. “I don’t know him. I can’t tell what sets him of or not. The only thing I can do, is tell you to listen what he says, and take it all from there man. Look at him, observe him, see what gets him off and just. Take it from there. I got to tell you, I’m not comfortable meddling with that little relationship of yours as a third party when I don’t know him. Let alone, him knowing I’m actually meddling.” 

“I know.” Steve whined and took his fork, poking a piece of chicken with the hope that it would make the salad look more appetizing. It didn’t. “I just…” 

“There’s no just Steve, it’s not right of me to do.” Sam drove the point further. Steve took a breath. 

“Listen. He was a musician, and when he talks about it, he fucking glows up Sam. I swear, it’s like watching the sun rise when he’s talking about it, such passion and devotion, and the amount of ridiculous music trivia that he knows? He knows exactly how many keys there are on a baby grand piano, he knows which band has the most sold album of all time, knows which country The Hives came from-”

“Okay point one taken, he likes music.” Sam interrupted Steve. “Carry on, point two.” 

“Right.” Steve forced a piece of chicken in his mouth, chewed it. It even tasted disgusting. Sam was watching him with those dark brown eyes of him and Steve felt the skin on his back crawl. Knowing that Sam was analysing Steve again, watching his every damn move and with that, knowing exactly which mindset that Steve was in, or racing himself into. The truth was that Steve never really knew when he felt stressed. 

“We went out once, great day. Perfect in any way imaginable. He invited me to his place for food and all that stuff. And afterwards, he showed off his music collection. And from that we slid into his guitars and he started telling me about them and I swear Sam. In the span of five minutes. He went from this cheerful, happy, wonderful person smiling and laughing, having the time of his life, and just… cracked open.” Steve looked at Sam, trying to see if the other was getting what Steve was trying to explain. 

The bastard’s gaze however, remained completely blank and told Steve absolutely nothing. Sighing in frustration, Steve brushed his hand through his hair and looked over the bistro again, as if it would help him find the proper words. “Just… you know. He started shaking, crying, and just… devastated. Like that.” Steve snapped with his fingers. 

“Well of course.” Sam took another bite of his sandwich. Steve stared at him. “You just said it yourself. He’s a musician. He loves music. And he can share a passion of music in cd’s because he can still start a cd himself. But when he moved on to guitars he just wound up remembering that he is down a fucking arm Steve, and he can’t play. That’s not rocket science.” 

“I know that!” Steve huffed, feeling a flush in his neck. He rubbed the muscles, not even having noticed that he had tensed himself up. It explained the light thud he felt against is forehead, and the added tension in his jaw. “Just… what do I do when that happens Sam? I want to help him.”

“Well, what did he do?” Sam asked annoyed. 

“He asked me to leave.” Steve lowered the fork, keeping his eyes at the salad and regretting every decision he ever had made in relation to salad. Did he even like chicken salad? He began to have his doubts. 

“There you go then! You ask him, he tells you. You do what he says. Steve. I cannot help you more than that. I know you want me to say that there is a magical way of reacting to it. A universal way that works on anyone and everyone and makes it all go away. There is nothing like that. I get that it’s hard for you to see him like that, but you gotta understand Steve. He’s working through some shit now. And all you really can do is hear what he has to say, and not make any assumptions on what make it better for him, alright.” Sam placed his sandwich down on the plate. 

“Steve look at me.” Sam sounded calm, serene. And Steve knew that he wasn’t going to get a scolding even if there was a nagging feeling in the back of his head. “When you were going through your shit. Your nightmares when we came back from Iraq, what did I do?” 

“You…” Steve’s voice trailed off, weakened. He shifted again in the chair, uncomfortable by the question. “You listened. You talked me through the nightmares and panic and you listened.” 

“Right.” Sam pointed at him. “And, did I assume things? Did I go ahead and move stuff around, did I change things, thinking it would be better for you?” Sam asked, Steve shook his head, feeling as guilty as a small child. “Exactly. I didn’t. I waited for you to tell me, and then I made the changes that you needed. The changes you realised that you needed to work through it all. So if you care about him, and I know you do, I can see it on you. So don’t go and change things around for him, you might make things better but assuming can also be harmful. And you can make things so much worse. I know you don’t mean to do that. So just. Trust him in talking to you. And to be honest Steve, it seems to me that he is.” 

“Yeah…” Steve licked his lips. “He calls me often, after we meet up. He likes taking a moment after we’ve been together to think things through, and then explain it. Explain his thought pattern. Apologise fifteen hundred times for stuff he shouldn’t.” Steve shrugged. 

“And I’m happy he does that, it’s better that he tells you rather than keep it inside. You had to learn to do that as well. Don’t forget.” 

“I haven’t.” Steve let out a tired sigh, he rubbed his neck again and fell silent. Sam picked up his sandwich again and took another bite. 

“How are you though? You hanging in there?” Sam asked, voice lighter now. The shift of tone alone lifted a weight of Steve’s chest, made him feel better about the conversation. And he could almost visualise how he let go of the worry and stress he had been harboring. 

“I’m okay.” Steve picked up his fork again and began to toy with the salad. He left it in the plate and took a sip of his water again. Sam was looking at him with a raised eyebrow. “What? I am.” 

“Steve, you haven’t touched your salad. You’re looking all over the place, rubbing your neck, you’re having a _little_ bit of difficulty listening to what I’m saying and all. We were housemates Steve, I know the signs.” Sam mused. “Come on, how are you really?” He picked up the bit of egg that fallen onto his plate and stuffed it in his plate. Steve took a deep breath. 

“Sorry, I just. I got stressed up having to last minute plan something for New Years.” Steve caught Sam looking at him. “I’m calling Tony for help! Jesus Sam, give me a break.” Steve chuckled, it seemed to pacify Sam again. 

“How are you sleeping? The stress not getting to you too much, moving back and jobless and all that?” Sam asked, sounding more dominant now when he ventured into familiar territory. Territory that Steve had let his friend in years ago, territory where Sam could give advice without intruding. 

“Alright. I’ve had a couple of nightmares since moving back but. Nothing I couldn't handle alone. Early morning run, do some colouring, stay off caffeine, hot chocolate, that god damn whale music you told me about, no tv. And it let go.” 

“Hey now, careful what you say about the whale music.” Sam winked to him. “How many nightmares.” It didn’t come out as a question. Sam demanded an answer as he finished his sandwich. 

“Five.” Steve tried another piece of the chicken salad again. Bearable, but nothing he would have favoured. 

“That’s one a week Steve.” Sam stated, and Steve felt the overwhelming urge to snap at him that he knew basic math. But he didn’t. Instead he kept chewing on the piece of chicken and eventually swallowed it down. “Have you talked to him yet?”

“I told you Sam. I was waiting for the right moment. The other day was not the right moment. I’ll talk to him about it on New Years maybe. If it works out.” Steve shrugged. 

“No no no. I mean, have you talked to him yet, about your nightmares, and the way you get when you’re stressed. Like this.” Sam gestured over Steve. Steve felt himself sink together in his seat, shoulder slumped together and the salad suddenly looked a lot less appetizing again. “You haven’t.” Sam stated. 

Steve shook his head, offering Sam an apologetic smile as if that put a bandaid over the whole thing. “It just, didn’t seem like I should. With him working through some pretty severe shit. And then me coming there like. _Oh hey_ , I still have nightmares over my time in Iraq sometimes, and while I can keep calm in a lot fairly easily, once stress gets to me, shit snowballs and I can freak out. While he’s sitting in front of me with one arm you know?”

“Steve, can I give you a piece of advice?” Sam leant in over the table again. Steve shrugged, he had a feeling that Sam would give his advice whether Steve liked it or not. “You should talk to him about that. You don’t owe him the story, I’m not saying that. If something he’ll probably be understanding, he seems to still draw a line with what he wants you to know and what he doesn’t want you to know. What I am saying is, since he now is starting to spend the night that he should know you can have nightmares. And to someone who’s never seen them before they can be pretty fucking scary.”

“I know.” Steve whined, rubbing his eyes. “I know Sam, I know. It’s just…” Steve raised his shoulders, unsure once more over how to actually phrase his sentence. The moment he thought of it, it seemed both right and wrong, or like an exaggeration. “Fuck I don’t know.” 

“It’s difficult.” Sam settled the conversation, and Steve felt relieved for the other for ending it like that. “Now. I think we’ve had enough of depressing shit for talk right? Come on, relax a bit, take a breath, and tell me about that interview you’ve had and finish your salad. I swear you’re making me hungry again by just looking at it.” 

-

Tony being Tony of course, had been happy help Steve out. And after ten minutes of calling the man and asking for help on a last minute reservation Tony already texted him an address, a time and a codeword for the reservation, seeing it was in his name but it would be very clear that no Stark came. 

And Tony being Tony, couldn’t settle on a normal restaurant for normal people. No, of course the bastard had to go all the way out and Steve felt that it was by far to much when they opened the door and stepped inside. Steve muttered a curse under his breath as he looked around. A calm place despite the Holiday going on outside, neatly dressed waiters with stony, professional expressions as they walked through the tables. Soft music playing in the background, candles on the tables and two chefs working visible for all to see, preparing the pieces of Sushi live in front of everyone to see. Tony, the well meaning bastard, had fixed Steve a reservation at a high end restaurant, and Steve should have known and double checked the place on tripadvisor or yelp or any off the millions of apps that existed and called him out on it. All Steve had asked for was a Sushi place, he should have given more detail.

Steve hadn’t even known that it was possible for a place to smell like money, and he felt hilariously underdressed with simple jeans, regular t-shirt and hoodie underneath his jacket amongst all the suits and dresses that probably cost a small fortune, he had dressed for warmth later on, when they’d be trailing through Prospect Park to find a proper spot for the Fireworks.

And Bucky, bless his heart, looked like a deer in headlights as he looked around in the restaurant. He if possible stood out even more than Steve did. With his skinny and partially aesthetically torn jeans, army boots, hair tied back and his necklaces. He reminded Steve a little bit of a punk rocker, Bucky had the affinity to lean towards that style, he had noticed. “Uh Steve?” Bucky looked at him. “Is this… really the right place?” Bucky’s gaze trailed up to the ceiling, watching the white round paper lamps above their heads with koi fish painted on them. Something gave Steve the feeling that they were painted on, and not cheaply printed. 

“I guess we’ll see.” Steve took a step over to the head waiter, who gave them a smile. “Hi uhm. We have a reservation under the name of Stark? He told me to say.” Steve sighed. “He told me to say Captain Handsome?” Steve heard Bucky snicker behind him. 

“Of course.” The waiter’s stony expression failed to falter, took two menus instead of turning them away. “If you please would follow me?” The waiter lead them to a table, which Steve felt confident had to be the best one in the room. They could watch the chefs without having to lean in any direction, no one else was in earshot, they were away from any doors, not under the fan, or music. Their table was in every possible sense perfect. “I can take your coats. Mr Stark has informed me that the bill is already paid for, a courtesy of him he said, would you like anything to drink?” 

Bucky, still wide eyed handed the man his jeans jacket, scarf and gloves. He looked at Steve, uncertain of what to say to that. _God damn it Tony_ , was all Steve could think. “Uhm. What do you drink?” Steve asked Bucky, surprised that he hadn’t thought of asking the question before. “Whiskey?” 

Bucky nodded, confused and took a seat at the table. “We’ll have a whiskey that Mr. Stark wouldn’t drink himself, thank you.” Steve handed his coat to the man who walked away, taking a breath, Steve sat down. Bucky didn’t waste any time and leant in over the table. 

“Steve, what’s going on?” 

“I couldn’t get us a reservation on such short notice for today.” Steve whined, reaching out to take Bucky’s hand. “So I asked Tony for help, see if he could pull a few strings and get a table free somewhere, I didn’t think he’d… get us a place like this and pay for us. I should have known.”

“Wow okay, I’ll have to thank him next time I see him because I cannot afford a place like this and it takes a long ass time for me to wash dishes.” Bucky snickered, looking around the restaurant again. “Steve, is that an aquarium behind the sushi chefs? That’s… a bit morbid isn’t it?” 

Steve looked over to the two men, and found that indeed, there was an aquarium with several colourful fish swimming around, he chuckled himself. “Yes, that’s a bit morbid if you ask me.” Steve agreed, shaking his head. He looked at Bucky, watching the other look around in the restaurant with marvel. Steve would have to thank Tony as well, for making Bucky look like that. 

“Let’s just hope that’s not the fish we’ll eat.” Bucky chuckled again, looking down at the menu and frowning a little bit. The waiter appeared, placing two glasses of golden coloured whiskey down in front of them. He proceeded to ask them if they had any chance to look at the menu (they hadn’t) and gave them the evening’s recommendations of the chefs. Bucky and Steve exchanged a look, then Bucky shrugged and handed the menu back to the waiter, telling him that they’d follow the recommendations. 

“Well.” Steve picked up his glass of whiskey and raised it over the table. Bucky got the hint and and did the same. “To a good New Year, all that cheesy crap and a free dinner because of Tony.” They moved their glasses against one another. “Do you have any New Year's resolutions?” Steve asked once he put his drink back down on the table, grimacing slightly at the burning feeling in his throat. He had always been a fan of beer, but ordering something as simple as that would have made him feel like a redneck in a restaurant like this. 

“Nah.” Bucky smirked to him. “Having a resolution is only asking for it to be broken anyway. So I’m just going to carry on with my life and what happens happens, and what doesn’t happen. Well, doesn’t happen.” Bucky drank from the whiskey again, seemingly not having a problem with the strong liquid. “What about you? Any resolutions?” 

“Haven’t thought much about it.” Steve admitted, spinning his own glass around. “It’s always something people say isn’t it? I always do the whole, work out more and learn a new language. Every damn year I promise myself that I’m going to start with climbing lessons, and every damn year I don’t and just stick with my old routines.”

“Climbing lessons?” Bucky questioned, leaning in over the table with a smug sort of smile. Steve had come to learn that it meant he had Bucky’s full focus and adoration. “Why climbing lessons?”

“Stupid kids dream you know? Except more teenage dream I guess. As a teenager I saw this thing on the news, I think I was like thirteen or fourteen or something. About a bunch of people who had followed this tour to Mount Everest, except they got stuck in a Blizzard and a bunch of them died. And I remember watching that on the news and thought that it would be pretty badass to climb that mountain. So ever since I’ve wanted to learn how to climb.”

Bucky licked his lips, then let out a whistle. “You’re a weird one you know that right?” He asked Steve, who felt his cheeks turn red and chuckled softly. “You see this thing about a bunch of people dying on a mountain and you decide. _Hey, I want to climb that thing._ ” Bucky shook his head. “Jesus Stevie.” 

“Come on now.” Steve gave Bucky a nudge under the table. “Can you imagine the view on top of there? Must be absolutely stunning.” He dreamt of for a second, then shook his head and dragged himself back to New York. “But climbing that takes years of practice I imagine. So I’m not really going anywhere soon.” 

“Not with that attitude and never signing up for it you’re not.” Bucky pointed out. “Do it, I mean, if you’ve been wanting to do that for so long. Do it Steve.” Bucky was smirking again. “If you don’t, you’ll wind up regretting you’ve wasted another year thinking about doing it rather than doing it.” 

“Are you joining me? We could do it together?” Steve only half teased. A part of him wanted Bucky to say yes, the part of him that wasn’t fully aware of how much of a lovesick puppy that Steve felt like at times around Bucky. He was just thankful that at least one brain half of his was still working to stop him. At times. Sometimes. Twelve percent of the time. 

Bucky barked out a laugh and shook his head. “No, I’ll go watch you but I’m not climbing. Honestly Steve, I don’t think I’m capable of climbing anymore.” He was still smirking, so Steve knew that the suggestion hadn’t hurt Bucky. No, with the laughter that had disrupted a couple further up that looked as if they truly belonged going to the opera and turning their noses up in disgust to them. 

“You don’t know that.” Steve tried. “I mean, there’ll be instructors and all that. Other ways to help you through all that. Maybe it’s possible.” He truly wanted Bucky to come and try it with him. Even if it might not be a great idea to commit to a hobby together when they still were in the early phases. But the simple idea of Bucky standing beside him as they faced a climbing wall was exhilarating. 

“Yes well Steve, I kind of don’t want any aid. In any way.” Bucky’s expression turned serious. Not angry, not upset. Just serious. “I just… I don’t know. Accepting aid like that kind of feels like I’m giving up. I don’t want to talk about it, let’s talk about something else.” 

“Okay, topic dropped. Actually, there was something I wanted to talk to you about.” Steve bit down on his lip, looking into his drink and not really knowing why he found himself avoiding Bucky’s gaze. Except… who was he kidding? He knew why he was avoiding it, and he knew that it was a childish act to do. To get so nervous about the whole ordeal when all he truly had to do was just ask. It was funny how that was the hard part, just asking. 

“Is something wrong?” Bucky asked and god Steve could hear the concern in the others voice. It made him feel guilty. 

“No! No nothing’s wrong I just. I guess I wanted to talk to you about us, you know what I mean?” Steve asked him. Bucky’s brow furrowed a bit and he shook his head.

“No I don’t? That just sounds like there’s something wrong Stevie. Is there?” Bucky asked, and it struck Steve that he sounded scared. To reassure him Steve took Bucky’s hand again and stroked his thumb over the back of Bucky’s hand. 

“Shit man, I just don’t have a way with words I don’t mean to worry you. I guess what I’m trying to ask is… just what are we?” Steve decided to do it quickly, to blurt the words out before he had a chance to think them over to much. Before he complicated matters that truly shouldn’t matter. Bucky’s frown was still there, and Steve started to feel like a five year old, sliding a piece of paper across his desk to Bucky to ask if the other would be his boyfriend. The sensation was remarkably similar. 

“Okay.” Steve cleared his throat, and reminded himself to calm down. To not let the stress get to him. “Last week at Christmas, my friends teased me when I was texting you. Asking me if I was texting my boyfriend and all. And I just thought, we should have that conversation with one another. We’ve been going out for a month now, we meet up often and all that. But I’m just… I guess I just want to know what I should tell people if they ask. If I’m dating someone, seeing someone, if I got a boyfriend.” 

“Basically you want to know if you can change your facebook status to in a relationship?” Bucky asked, wearing that unbearable grin of his. Here Steve had struggled to find the right things to say. And Bucky so bluntly laid it out there with a smile of his. Steve sighed, relieved at how the responsibility had been lifted of him. 

“Yeah. I guess that’s the best way to put it.” Steve raised his shoulders a bit. Bucky rolled his eyes and shook his head again. “I didn’t mean to worry you.” Bucky laughed, a sound that made Steve feel infinitely better in knowing that he hadn’t angered the other. Worried wasn’t much better, but at least Steve had been able to hear how the other relaxed. 

“Jesus Steve, I was starting to think that this was you nicely letting me down and saying you weren’t interested anymore but could still enjoy our night together and give me the whole, we can still be friends and it’s not you it’s me talk.” Bucky pulled his hand out from under Steve’s and scratched his chest.

“No.” Steve rested his chin in the palm of his hand. “Like you said so much better than me. I just wanted to know if I can change my facebook status to in a relationship and call you my boyfriend to anyone who’s willing to listen.” 

“I think you should make me your facebook friend first before you do that.” Bucky winked at him. “You can call me your boyfriend if I can call you mine.” 

“Honestly Buck, I would have been okay with you calling me that the moment you made me carry Lucky on the subway.” Steve realised now he should have given that answer to the others on Christmas Day. You have a boyfriend once they make you carry they’re friend’s dog in a bag on the subway. “Speaking of facebook. I found your band on there a little while ago. I watched some clips.” 

“Oh really?” Bucky lit up. “What did you think?” And Steve started to tell him, loving how Bucky’s smile grew the more that Steve spoke. 

-

Bucky wound up loving the Sushi, and wound up giggling some more at Steve’s second attempt to eat with chopsticks. Despite that the sushi bits were quite a bit larger than the dish he had eaten on their first date. But near the end he started to get comfortable with it. They shared a desert with one another and a couple more drinks. More than enough to get themselves happy and chatty with one another by the time that they walked out of the restaurant. 

Steve draped his arm around Bucky’s shoulder as they started their walk to Prospect Park, and Bucky laced his fingers in Steve’s hand. Telling him tales of various events when he had been out playing shows with Clint, Scott and Nik. Bucky still kept it for himself that Nik was dead and cremated, he wasn’t certain how to broach that subject considering how close Natasha held it to hand. And for as long as he didn’t have to explain anything in depth about it he felt that he could remain quiet about it. At least until he had the chance to talk to her and see what she thought and felt about the matter. 

They reached the park at eleven in the evening, and by then it was already filled with people. Still, Bucky managed to slip them amongst the crowd. Steve had let go of Bucky’s shoulders and they just walked through the people holding hands while searching for Clint, Laura and the two kids. They only had a text of Clint to go after, and neither of them really felt like taking up their phone to call Clint, not when Steve could feel his phone buzz over and over in his pocket with New Years Wishes from people he spoke to, and people he only spoke to on New Years to give them his best wishes. 

Bucky downright told Steve that he didn’t do all that crap, that he didn’t trust taking out his phone amongst this amount of people and much more preferred it in the pocket on the inside of his jeans jacket. Safely where he could feel it. Eventually Bucky spotted Clint amongst the people, nodded at their direction and dragged Steve with him. 

“Hey! It’s my favourite one armed asshole!” Clint exclaimed when he noticed Bucky, pulling the other in for a hug. Bucky snorted, patting Clint on his back. “Hey man, nice to see you again.” Clint let go of Bucky and went over to give Steve a hug as well. 

“Hey Laura.” Bucky leaned in and gave her a kiss on her cheek. “Hey Lila.” Bucky tried to get the little girls attention, but she just turned to shove her face against her mothers coat. Cooper not surprisingly, seemed bored and was playing a game on the phone that he had gotten a week before. 

“This is my better half, I don’t think you’ve met.” Clint introduced Steve to Laura. And then dropped his hand on Cooper’s shoulder. “This is our eldest Cooper, hiding in my wife’s coat is our daughter Lila. And the fat lump by her stomach isn’t named yet. I’m pushing for Robin, nice name, gender neutral and all that stuff plus Robin hood. Laura isn’t letting me have it though.” 

“Clint.” Laura smacked Clint on his stomach, he just giggled and gave her a kiss on her cheek. Bucky felt Steve take his hand again and squeezed. “Don’t mind him, if you’ve met him before I’m sure you’ve noticed that once he starts talking he doesn’t really shut up with the comments, he’s open like that.” 

“Uh yeah, I kind of noticed that.” Steve chuckled a little bit, still half hiding behind Bucky in the presence of new people. 

“So he’s the mystery man that you’ve not been telling us about.” Laura gave Bucky a pinch in his side. Bucky just tried to dodge it to his best extent and leant back against Steve’s chest. “You look good together, I’m happy for you Bucky.”

“Thank you.” Bucky told her, feeling how Steve dared to move his arms around his waist to keep him close, and Bucky swayed alongside with Steve. It only took Clint an additional thirty seconds to break the ice, and soon enough the four adults were talking away, telling jokes and telling tales. Bucky was happy to find that while Steve had needed a few jokes of Clint to get used to his sense of humour again, once he did, he found the other man hilarious. 

Lila slowly but surely opened up to the new adult that she hadn’t seen before, and became her old self which meant she was virtually enjoying Cooper at any given chance she got. Cooper pretended to be annoyed and angry, acting in a horribly bad and over exaggerated way at how a teenager would react, but everybody could see that he secretly loved the way his sister was interacting with her. 

Like that, time flew by. Clint disappeared at one point only to return ten minutes later with a small cardboard tray that carried several steaming mugs. Three hot chocolates, handed out to the kids and to Laura respectively, and a mean coffee as Clint put it himself for himself, Bucky and Steve. So when Bucky took a sip, it came as no surprise at all that Clint had gotten them Irish Coffees. Not long after that Laura smacked Clint’s arm again and tapped her ears once she had gotten his attention. 

“Take those out before you blow your eardrums out permanently this time.” She told him, Clint nodded obediently, and then with a well practiced move he reached behind his ear and removed the earpiece. By then Laura had already magiced his little container out of her purse and opened it for him. 

“But you play drums?” Steve blurted out. Clint, still taking out the earpiece to his other ear picked it up and looked to Steve while handing it to Laura. She shut the little container and shoved it in her purse. Bucky smiled at the question and sipped of his Irish Coffee and deciding to stay out of the conversation. Instead he was secure enough in Clint’s comical way of handling the conversation while Bucky remained in Steve’s one armed embrace. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to be rude. But how do you play drums if you… well.” 

“It’s alright man.” Clint winked to him. “You see, people always think that when you’re deaf you hear absolutely nothing. Unless you’re hard of hearing then well yeah, you can still hear. I’m not though. I’m deaf. But, what people don’t know is that when you’re deaf, in some cases like mine, I can feel vibration in my ears when people talk or shit like that. Deep noises are easier to pick up. You know how you can feel a heavy bass tremble in your clothes? I can feel that in my ears still. And besides.” Clint shrugged and looked away from them, finishing his Irish Coffee. “No matter what the bassist says, they do not set the pace for the music when you play. The drummer does, so I go first, and you don’t need to hear to have a sense of rhythm, they just need to follow my lead. And I can read your lips.” 

“Oh.” Steve sounded so dumbfounded. So confused and yet at the same time almost disappointed with himself for not having thought that far. Bucky couldn’t help but laugh at the sound of it, or maybe he was just feeling an extra level of cheerful with an additional portion of whiskey. 

“Yeah we were a fucked up band. Cripple, now deaf guy. Just wait until you find out what Scott has up his sleeve.” Bucky told Steve, craning his neck so he could watch Steve. “Hi.” He muttered and kissed him on his cheek. Steve frowned at him. “I’m kidding. Scott if something is the most normal one of us. If you ignore the ant farm gifting and shit like that.” 

“Besides. Beethoven was deaf and still made some excellent music. So don’t you turn into a hater now.” Clint gave Steve a warning finger, Bucky only felt Steve flinch backwards a bit. The expression on his face must have been priceless because Clint couldn’t keep his serious face anymore. Instead it just cracked and faltered, having him burst out laughing. “Oh god man your face, I’m sorry man but your face.” Clint chuckled, waving Steve off. And Bucky could feel how Steve relaxed against him again. 

“Clint you’re a little bit of a capital A, you know that right?” Steve told Clint who didn’t react, now having turned away from them and looked out over the people, trying to judge how much longer they would have to wait for the fireworks rather than just checking his watch. 

“Steve?” Bucky finished his own coffee and craned his neck again. He felt the other’s hot lips press against this neck and he shut his eyes, allowing himself to enjoy the moment. “He can’t hear the vibration of voices with this much noise. He needs to see you to understand you.” Bucky giggled a bit. Steve just sighed and pressed his forehead in the curve of his neck and muttered a curse. “It’s okay.” Bucky let go of Steve’s arm and petted Steve’s hair. “It’s not always easy at first. We fuck up all the time. Don’t we Laura?” 

“We do.” Laura told Steve. “Sometimes I wish I was the deaf one, just so I could pretend to ignore him for once in my life.” Laura rolled her eyes, and then gave Clint a loving smile. It seemed to make Steve feel a little bit better however. 

Bucky twisted himself around in Steve’s arms and looked up to him. “Hi.” He repeated again before giving Steve a soft kiss again. 

“Hi.” Steve smirked down to him. “You’re getting a little bit drunk from all that whiskey aren’t you?” Steve asked, licking his lips. Bucky swayed a little bit side to side in Steve’s embrace, not quite sure if he was proving Steve’s point or just toying with him. Didn’t matter he supposed. 

“Just a little bit tipsy.” He told Steve. “I’m just feeling happy right now. You would know if I got drunk. I’m a bit of an obnoxious drunk. Isn’t that right Laura?”

“He is an obnoxious drunk, you’d know.” Laura assured Steve before turning her attention back to Lila who had asked her something that Bucky hadn’t caught. 

“I’m just really happy to be with you here right now Steve.” Bucky said on a lower tone, just loud enough for Steve to hear, and quiet enough to lock the others out of their conversation with one another. “I want you to know that. You’re good to me, you’re pretty much exactly what I need right now. Thank you.” 

“Well. I’m really happy to be here with you as well Buck.” 

“And. As cliché as it sounds, I am really happy to start the New Year with you as my boyfriend now. What a piece of glorious ass that I get to watch.” Bucky was grinning and Steve laughed again. 

“Yeah okay you’re definitely tipsy.” Steve looked at him in such a fond manner that Bucky could tell there wasn’t a single grain of annoyance in his voice. 

“Maybe a little bit, it’s New Year, who gives a shit.” Bucky was about to kiss Steve again, but instead felt Clint tap his shoulder and gathering their attention. Muttering something about the countdown beginning just moments before a woman walked up on the stage with a microphone in her hands. 

It followed with a short speech that ended just as quickly as it began. And the countdown began. A roar of people all over the city counting down in unison, and when the stroke of midnight hit fireworks raced into the sky, going dark before exploding into wonderful jets of colour. Bucky thought he felt Steve flinch against him at first, and when the next explosion went of he was certain he had felt that. 

Not everyone had an affinity for fireworks, Bucky realised. And Steve seemed to be one of them. So he brought his hand up to Steve’s arm again and squeezed, leaning back against him to give Steve someone to hold on to. And he felt Steve’s grip tighten and the flinch lessen by the third firework.

They watched the fireworks together. Clint having picked up Lila and pointing up to the sky, discussing the colours with her. Cooper was filming the whole ordeal with his new phone and Laura just looked at her family with a fond expression rather than the fireworks. Steve holding Bucky, both of them with their eyes glued to the night sky. 

When the last firework went up, people waited in anticipation for one last, grew disappointed and tried to coax one more secret rocket out. When that didn’t happen, the crowd began to move. 

Steve then reached for his phone and pulled it out. “Now I know you said you don’t do that crap, as you so eloquently said.” Steve whispered in Bucky’s ear and held out his phone in front of them. “But I however do. And now I need to rub it in Sam’s face for teasing me that I do have a boyfriend now.” Bucky snickered and watched Steve start the camera, press the button that flipped it to the front camera and the pair of them came in view on the screen. 

“Yeah no we are not doing that.” Clint took the phone out of Steve’s hand, took a step back and flipped the camera back, raised it and smirked at the pair of them. “Come on now, smile, strike a pose do whatever at your heart's content but please keep your clothes on. There are kids in your vicinity and it’s a little bit to cold for that too. You might not get that much fun out of one another if you get my drift.” 

Steve laughed at the statement. Bucky more used to Clint’s sense of humour had seen it long coming. So instead he took ahold of Steve’s jaw and pressed his lips to the others cheek while glancing into the camera. Clint with his eyes glued on the telephone screen just gave them his thumbs up before tapping a button on the phone a couple of times. Then handed the phone to Steve. “There, there ought to be one or two on there that is decent enough.” 

“Thanks Clint.” Steve was already scrolling through his phone and looked over the photos. “Yeah these are perfect. Definitely sending these to Sam. Look.” Steve offered the phone for Bucky to see. And as Bucky watched the photo, he found that he could hardly recognize himself with such a hint of a wide smile as he had kissed Steve on his cheek. 

-

“I get nightmares sometimes.” Steve admitted, his shoulders slumped just as Bucky turned to look at him. Bucky watched him from the doorway with a glass of water in his hands. He had sobered up during their walk to Bucky’s apartment after he had offered Steve to spend the night with him. Now he just needed water. “Since I came back from the army. I guess a lot of people do. And I don’t really like fireworks. Well I do, I think they’re beautiful, I just don’t like the sound they make, I’ve gotten better though.” Steve sighed and looked up to Bucky, there was something tired in his eyes. Yet his smile had to be the most genuine thing that Bucky had ever seen. 

“Is that why you flinched in the beginning of it?” Bucky asked, joining Steve on the couch and pulled his legs up in it. He stretched them out, letting them come to rest over Steve’s. Anya who had curled herself up by Steve’s hip didn’t mind the sudden roof. She just stretched out her front legs and made the fur on her back ripple. 

“You felt that?” 

“I was leaning against you Steve. It was kind of hard not to.” Bucky drank from the water again and then put it on the living room table. Steve chuckled a little bit and scratched the back of his neck. 

“Yeah. I just thought. Seeing we’re boyfriends now.” Steve placed his hand on Bucky’s calf, smirking to him, relaxing right in front of Bucky now when he had managed to tell his tale and get it off his chest. “And since we’re getting to the point of spending nights. I want you to know that incase I ever have one. So it doesn’t catch you of guard or something.” 

“I appreciate the thought.” Bucky leant in, he heard Anya let out a soft purr as her space grew even smaller and pressed his lips on Steve’s for a short second. “Is this you telling me all about your baggage now when you’ve updated your facebook status?”

“Maybe.” Steve mused against his lips. “Or just me being as honest as I keep saying I value. Like you said though, we need to be friends on facebook first before I can do that. And you do have facebook, I saw that on your band page.” 

“I don’t use it anymore Stevie. I only had it because of the band page. Social media is a waste of it. I’d rather spend it doing something else. But if it makes you feel better, I’ll sign in and accept your request, and change my status so you can show me off to the world.” 

“I was only kidding.” Steve kissed him again. “I’d also rather do other things.” Steve pulled Bucky in closer, Anya finally stirred and got up, squirming out from the couch between them. Steve moved on top of Bucky again, never once making sure that their lips were apart from one another for longer than a second. Bucky moved underneath Steve, getting into a comfortable position and brushed his fingers through Steve’s hair again. Strands stiffer with the wax that he had put in it. 

Steve’s hand, warm and heavy moved over Bucky’s body, feeling him and touching him. Making Bucky’s breathing heavier, waking him feel warm, feel how his body worked itself up over such simple touches and made him want to crave more, made him move against Steve. Kissing his lips, his neck, his shoulders and feel how the gesture was returned to him. A positively dizzying experience. 

“Steve?” Bucky whispered in between a kiss, feeling out of breath. Steve pressed his forehead against Bucky’s, his lips swollen from their kisses shared, eyes darker and breath heavier. He felt Steve’s fingers stroke the soft skin on his side where his t-shirt had ridden up slightly. Never once pushed by Steve. 

Bucky looked into those eyes, allowing himself to drown in them for a moment, and he felt utmost glee rush through him. He breathed a sigh of relief, stroking his thumb lightly over Steve’s lower lip. He didn’t need anything more in the world, not when all he ever wanted or needed was right on top of him. “Bedroom.” Bucky whispered to Steve, pressing his hand on the couch and kissed him again. “Bedroom.” He repeated before pushing him up, Steve following him with grace, ease like a dancer. 

He led them both into the bedroom, turning back to Steve as he backed towards the bed and pulled the other in by his t-shirt. Steve’s hands moved to Bucky’s back again, following him until Bucky felt the bed against the back of his legs. With the advantage of having lived in the same apartment for years, of never having moved anything, Bucky moved onto the bed without even looking over his shoulder and pulled Steve with him. 

Bucky slid his hand under Steve’s shirt, pushing it up a little bit before Steve got the hint, reached for the shirt behind his head and pulled it off in one swift move. Bucky grinned, letting his hand trace over the muscles on his abdomen, his chest. And Steve saw the adoration in Bucky’s eyes, allowed himself to be praised for only a moment. Bucky moved up slightly. “Greek god, Hercules.” Bucky whispered to him, then moved further up the bed. Steve followed him. 

Steve kissed the skin on Bucky’s stomach, hooking his fingers by his jeans before moving up again before Bucky protested. He eased back into the kiss, moving his hips towards Steve’s touch and felt how the other unbuckled his belt. He moved along with him still when Steve tugged of Bucky’s jeans and tossed them to the floor. Bucky traced his own fingers to Steve’s jeans, managing to pull open Steve’s belt, and with his help later opened his jeans as well and stripped out of them. Steve was already hard, and somehow it had escaped Bucky’s notice that he to had gotten hard. 

Steve grinded their hips together, and a moan escaped Bucky. He saw Steve grin in that devilish way of his. When he had thought of something, and when he intended on following that plan through. And Bucky wanted to surprise him, wanted to catch him of guard and watch how Steve’s jaw would drop ever so slightly at a sharp intake of breath, he wanted to feel the soft shudder of Steve’s body above him. 

So he traced his fingers down Steve’s chest, the little space that he could, and then to Steve’s side before eventually sliding his hand in between them. Steve hummed at the touch, and when Bucky slid his fingers in Steve’s boxer briefs and moved his hand over his cock. Making Steve gasp just like he wanted. 

Bucky grinned, taking in the wonderful sight of surprise, off shock and the, when Bucky moved his fingers around Steve’s cock, letting the other move their hips a bit away so Bucky had more room. “New game plan.” Bucky hummed to him, kissing Steve deeply. “Get out of those.” 

Steve didn’t need to be told twice, and with Bucky’s help even if he had to let go he stripped out of his boxer briefs in an instant. And when he kissed Bucky again, hands in his neck and pulling him in, the kiss had grown heated and feral, a low growl escaping Steve when Bucky took Steve’s cock again and stroked him. 

“Can I return the favor?” Steve whispered in between, Bucky nodded and felt the heat pool in his abdomen without Steve even having touched him. “I swear you’re not missing your window this time I swear.” Steve told him before helping Bucky out of his underwear, then slid his hand under his shirt and pushed it up. To that Bucky grabbed his wrist. 

“Not that.” Bucky breathed to him. Steve didn’t question it. In a way it made sense, Steve supposed, that Bucky didn’t want the shirt to removed and open himself up in that manner. So Steve just focused on what he was allowed to do instead. And just when he wrapped his hand just around Bucky, he felt Bucky do the same. They moaned in unison, and Steve deepened their kiss, adding tongue and moved his hips alongside with Bucky’s well practiced touch. 

“Tell me what to do.” Steve whispered in Bucky’s ear, and all he managed to stammer was a soft sound of surprise. “Tell me what makes you feel good.” 

“Uhm.” Bucky licked his lips, feeling how his body warmed up at the thought, the potential relief that he could feel if Steve succeeded. The potential relief he had struggled with for months on end now, and the idea to have that again? That made it hard to think, and the sensation of Steve’s hand moving over his cock, making him move his hips in the slightest way along Steve’s touch. And there was that feeling, growing inside of him, biding it’s time before it would become something wonderful. 

“Show me.” Steve whispered to him, nipping slightly at his ear. “Help me get it right.” Bucky let go of Steve, placing his hand over Steve’s and doing just as he was asked. He added a little bit more pressure to Steve’s touch, twisted the other’s wrist and found himself moaning in result. “There we go.” Steve whispered in his ear, breath hot against his skin and Bucky whimpered, feeling the stark contrast of softer kisses in his neck. “Just like that baby. You look beautiful like that.” Another kiss against Bucky’s throat, while a chuckle rippled up within him. 

“Don’t call me baby when we’re getting it on, that's just weird.” Bucky snickered, found Steve’s lips again, moaning in their kiss as Steve now of his own initiative made the twist with his wrist. And Steve, much to Bucky’s pleasure, didn’t use the nickname again. There was a clear determination to Steve’s touch, and when Bucky stopped guiding Steve’s hand the other made sure that Bucky had little opportunity to do anything else himself. 

He was moaning, whimpering underneath Steve, gasping at the pleasure that he was given and held on to Steve in his neck. Wishing he had both hands to keep his balance with, somehow with one it felt like he was still drowning, being absorbed by how someone else was making him feel so _good_. A feeling that had grown so foreign to him over the past few months.

Bucky heard Steve’s whispers, heard the words that together must have strung some form of encouragement even if he couldn’t make them out. And so when Bucky actually came, he was caught off guard by himself, moan stuck in his throat as he spilled into Steve’s hand. The soft kisses on his shoulder made him shudder a little, and when Steve found his lips again their pace slowed. Relaxed and at ease with one another, allowing Bucky to rest, recover from the myriad of emotions and feelings that were competing within him.

And when the realisation hit him, when Bucky realised to what extent that Steve just had managed to make him feel good, he laughed. He could feel the smile of the other against his skin, and when Bucky kissed him again, the relief of at least five months fluttered away from him.

-

The bed was empty when Steve woke up in the morning. Before he opened his eyes he let his hand trace over the mattress in attempt to fund Bucky. All his fingers came to feel was a patch of fur that started purring like a lawn mower at the touch. Steve peaked at the cat, who was stretched out in the bed with an expression not unlike a smile. 

Steve shut his eyes for a moment longer, giving himself an additional couple of minutes before he got out of bed. He found his boxer briefs on the floor, pulled them on as well as his t-shirt and socks. He left his jeans on the floor for a later time. He stretched as he left the bedroom, tracing his fingers on the ceiling while he moved the muscles in his back to wake up, to feel the blood flowing.

Bucky was in the kitchen, and Steve just leant in the doorframe and watched him for a moment. His back was turned to Steve as he was preparing a sandwich by the counter, his hair an adorable mess, but the sight of Bucky standing there, just in boxers and Steve’s hoodie draped all over him was beautiful in it’s own right. It was just a few sizes to large for him, and Bucky had pushed up the sleeve a little bit, making Steve imagine how it would come over the others knuckles.

“So we’re already stealing clothes are we?” Steve asked, startling Bucky out of his focus of sandwich making, and turn to look at him. 

“Well, isn’t that something Boyfriends do? Steal clothing from one another?” Bucky smirked, returning to the sandwich and put the slice of bread on top of it. He offered the plate to Steve. “Hungry?” 

Steve shook his head. “Nah just some coffee will do if you got that. I’m one of those weirdos that can’t stomach breakfast.” Bucky nodded and pointed over to the coffee maker, then tapped a cupboard which Steve assumed contained mugs. When he opened it he found that his theory was correct and Bucky was already taking a large bite out of the sandwich. 

“Sleep well?” Bucky asked as he trailed into the living room. Steve poured himself a large, generous cup of coffee and gently blew on it before daring a sip. A little bit to strong for his liking, but Steve wasn’t going to complain. 

“Like a rock.” Steve went out to the living room as well, Bucky had already turned on the television and switched the channel away. “What about you?” 

“I think that was the best sleep I’ve had in a year.” Bucky snickered a bit, taking another bite of his sandwich. “Funny how much you can relax after getting off like that, isn’t it? I think that was the first time I got off in like five months Steve, and since going armless I can give you the exact amount of times I’ve gotten off on my one remaining hand.” 

“Seriously?” Steve asked, pulling one of his legs under him as he sat down in the couch, leaning back against a collection of pillows. Bucky nodded and there was a soft padding sound coming into the room. Steve only made out a tail moving towards them before Anya jumped up on the couch and rubbed herself against Bucky. “Wow. Yeah I can see why you’d sleep like a rock after that.” 

“It was fucking amazing Stevie.” Bucky said carefully, picking at a piece of lettuce from his sandwich before daring himself to look at Steve again. “Thank you for that. Really.”

“Hey, I’m just happy I found your window this time around before it shut.” Steve winked to him and watched Bucky snort. 

“Keep in mind cowboy, you might not find it next time.” Bucky teased, shoved the last bit of sandwich in his mouth and got up from the couch with the plate in hand, making Steve wonder if Bucky had inhaled the sandwich, at the rate it had disappeared. Steve watched the television for a moment, not surprised in the least that it was a music program. “Hey Steve!” Bucky called out from the kitchen. Steve only hummed his response, sipping of the more appropriately temperature coffee. “You ever played guitar?” 

“No, how come?” 

Bucky stuck his head back into the living room, his hair coming in his eyes before he blew it away. “Want to learn a song?” He offered, and Steve found that he had no heart of turning Bucky down when he looked so excited. 

“Sure.” He put the coffee down on the table, and Bucky bounced off to the wardrobe where he had shown Steve his guitars a few weeks prior. He took out the acoustic guitar and joined Steve back on the couch, scooting so he had Steve in between his legs, joining him by his side. “What do I do?” Steve asked, hesitantly taking the guitar by the neck. A part of him worried that Bucky was going to break again, but looking at him it just seemed like the other had a glow about him.

“Well, to begin with, you should relax.” Bucky commented, Steve just muttered wiseass under his breath which made the other chuckle. “Right, put your middle finger and your ring finger on these two strings.” Bucky leant in closer, putting Steve’s fingers on the second and third topmost strings. “That chord is called an E minor.” Bucky told him, then took Steve’s other hand and brushed his fingers down the strands, making the sound of the guitar fill the room. “Try it.” Bucky encouraged and grabbed the remote of the television, turning the volume down. 

Steve did, although he didn’t find it particularly easy get a smooth sound to come from the guitar until Bucky helped him a bit. But the other turned out to be patient and never once commented on it. “Right and this. If you put your index finger here… and your middle finger-” Bucky leant over to adjust Steve’s fingers again. Steve had to crane his hand so his fingers wouldn’t slip of the strings, making the pair of them laugh again. “This, is a G.” 

Bucky let Steve practice that for a moment longer, helping him when it came to coaxing the sound out of the guitar and occasionally distracting him with a kiss in his neck. After the G chord, came a D. 

It took Steve half an hour before he realised that Bucky was teaching him Wonderwall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and all that jazz again! The next chapter might be shorter, but angstier so that should be a fun ride if you ask me!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Bucky takes a step back because of all the steps forward he's taken, gets angry at his wellmeaning overly helpful friends and shares his frustrations, has an argument with Natasha and lets emotions run high again, and Steve is a hero.

Natasha was fucking cleaning again. Bucky barely heard what Clint was going on about, instead he just watched how she moved from area to area in the living room. Tidying up as she went, cups going into the sink in the kitchen. Stacking blu-ray cases back in the shelf underneath the television and putting the discs back in them. Watering his plants. Discarding wrappers from snacks. It seemed like the only thing she didn’t touch were the cd’s, a clear line that she would violate if she went that far.

When she disappeared into the kitchen again with two mugs and a small place, Bucky heard the water begin to run in the kitchen. Dishes, of course she’d do the fucking dishes. Annoyed, he tried to block out the sound of the water rushing into the sink and looked to Clint, stroking his lips with his fingers as he tried to listen to what his friend was saying. 

He couldn’t focus, the annoyance over it was buzzing under his skin like angry wasps. And he couldn’t hear a single word that was coming out of Clint’s mouth. Bucky had no idea if the other was telling him a tale about his children, about his work, about Laura, about Lucky. And truth to be told he found that he didn’t care. All he heard was the sound of water and cups in a sink. 

A set of keys that weren’t his own hit Bucky square in the chest, pulling his mind out of the kitchen and into the living room again. He looked down to his lap, recognizing the purple bow and arrow keychain as Clint’s. “Are you even listening to me?” Clint asked him. Bucky picked up the keychain and tossed them back to clint, harder than he intended but found that he didn’t regret the interaction in the slightest. 

“No.” Bucky told him flatly. The water in the sink began to run again and Bucky took a breath. Now Natasha would join them, now they would sit down and talk like normal people and Bucky could kill the wasps that were raging inside of him. But Natasha didn’t join them. There was some more bustle in the kitchen and Bucky heard a dull thud in the sink again. He shut his eyes, took a breath and then forced a smile to Clint. “What was it you were saying?” 

Clint just observed him, toying with his keychain as he watched him with. Almost as if trying to judge if it was safe to continue talking. The water ran again, and now Bucky realised that Natasha had pulled out a bucket that she was filling it with water. Tidying wasn’t enough for her no. She would go the extra mile and even fucking clean for him when he hadn’t had asked her to. Clint opened his mouth, just about to begin repeating what he had been saying before Bucky cut him off.

“Nat! Come in here!” Bucky called for her, doing his best to keep his anger in control and out of his voice. But he had a feeling that his body had betrayed him by the way that Clint began to shift in the armchair and frowned. The water stopped, and sure enough when she appeared in the doorway, she wore bright yellow plastic cleaning gloves. “What are you doing?” 

“What does it look like I’m doing?” She asked him, raising her shoulders slightly. “I’m cleaning.” Bucky brought his thumb back up to his lips and bit down on it, feeling a sharp sensation of pain that in an odd way felt a little bit like relief.

“Don’t do that. Come sit here.” Bucky told her, still trying to keep his calm and gestured over to the empty spot beside him on the couch. “I asked to hang out.” He told her, doing his best to make the words sound as meaningful, to make it seem like he wasn’t going to take any other answer. And he had wanted to hang out. Bucky knew that it was seldom he was the one reaching out to his friends. Especially in the past year. 

But that morning he had woken up with a twisting feeling in his gut that couldn’t be helped by anyone else but Clint and Natasha. He had called Scott to, who had apologised profusely and said that he couldn’t make it even if he wanted to. And had asked if Bucky needed him to come by during the weekend instead. Bucky had told him that it wouldn’t be necessary.

He had put his hopes with Clint and Natasha coming over and spending the day with him. It had been a shitty week, and he felt certain that it had been even worse for Natasha. He had thought that being together with them would help them both. Would distract them from the reminder that the previous year they had been spending all their time in the hospital, shuffling from chair to chair and bedside to bedside with little answers and a million of questions. And Bucky had begun feel that anger crawl back to him, that feeling of helplessness that he expected only others in the same situation would be able to understand. 

He had thought about calling Steve but… it hadn’t felt fair asking him for help and company when he didn’t even fully know what he was trying to battle. Besides, Clint, Natasha and Scott had all been there in the hospital, having followed it from that evening all the way through until present day. If there were certain people that deserved to be there, it were the ones who had been there from the start.

“I know, I was just going to dust a bit, we can talk while I dust.” Natasha persisted, pointing over her shoulder and Bucky bit down on his tongue. He shut his eyes and counted backwards from three to zero before opening his eyes again and allowing himself to sink into the conversation. He was imagining the bloody wasps in his ears now, and Anya who had been resting half splayed out over his legs seemed to notice he started to get worked up. 

Another well meaning gift of the others. Bucky loved the cat, he truly did. But the part of him that knew they had only gotten her for him so he wouldn’t be so alone in his apartment at the early stages finally moved from denial to acceptance. And in an instant of a second Bucky began to hate the creature that had never done anything wrong in her life, that had kept him company in those first few months and who had loved him unconditionally, who had always been curled up beside him, happily sleeping away and offering him both companionship and comfort. He gave the cat a small push, waking her up and making her move off the couch and away from him. She just stretched out on the floor and flopped down again. 

“Don’t do that, I just wanted to hang out.” Bucky told Natasha, looking away from the cat and to the red haired woman. in the doorway, with black trousers, black hoodie and red shirt. Horribly mismatched with the yellow gloves. “So fuck the dusting, and come sit here.” 

“It’ll only take a minute.” Natasha persisted. “I thought I’d do it. Save you the trouble.”

“Trouble from what? I can fucking clean Natasha!” Bucky raised his voice to her. He hadn’t meant to, but the anger had been so easy to slip into that he hadn’t even been aware of it. Natasha looked startled, a look that Bucky wasn’t sure he ever had seen on her. Clint looked positively uncomfortable. Like a teenager caught in between the argument of two parents which he could avoid by sinking as deep as he possibly can into the armchair. 

“I don’t need you to come in here and tidy up after me every damn time I let you in here!” Bucky continued, the anger still raging within him. He pointed to his own chest as if that made the point come across. 

“I don’t-” 

“Yes you fucking do!” Bucky shouted at her, leaning in closer. Anya realised her mistake from laying down close to Bucky. She got up in surprise and quickly padded away into the bedroom, away from the adults in the room. 

“Bucky.” Clint began on that fucking tone of his that meant he’d become the mediator. The dad voice that he had used so many times before with Cooper and Lila when they had one of their millionth disagreement. Bucky wasn’t having it. 

“No Clint, no! Every damn time I let the pair of you in here. One of you is always going around and tidying shit up and it’s her more than anyone! Doing the dishes, putting them away, hoovering, doing my laundry and folding them, making me shower and fucking dusting. _Dusting!_ Do I come into your home and do that?! No! I don’t need any of you to do that shit for me! I can fucking do it myself do you hear me? Don’t treat me like I’m fucking useless!”

Natasha had paled, and Bucky saw the the furious cold flash of anger come over her. He knew he had stepped on her toes. But he didn’t care, for as far as he was concerned it had felt like she had walked over him for months. At first he had been grateful, he truly had been. It had been a help he hadn’t even fully realised he needed. Now, now he felt like he could do all of that himself, and he didn’t need someone else coming by and lifting that responsibility off him when he _knew_ he could do it himself. In fact, it was rude for her to go ahead with it all without even asking him, when he had asked her to come over just to hang out. 

That was all, Bucky had asked for company and nothing more. She was giving him a maid. “Come on now Bucky that’s not fair.” Clint tried to mediate anyhow, his head tilted ever so slightly to the side. “We only want to help man.”

“I never asked for your help, from either of you!” Bucky snapped to Clint. “I can do shit myself if only you fucking let me! Yes fine, I can’t do it at the superspeed you all do and rub it in every fucking time anymore. But can fucking do it!”

“Then why don’t you?!” Natasha shouted, stunning both Bucky and Clint. She pulled off the yellow gloves in movements so quick and so harsh that Bucky thought she’d rip them to pieces. She threw them at him, but with their light weight they didn’t make it further than halfway across the room. “Then why don’t you James?! Every damn time we come here this place is a mess! And that’s why we do it because you wont and you damn well know you can’t keep up with the amount of crap you’ve got! Because we know that you wont get off your god damn couch and do the work. So that’s why we do it, so you don’t fucking have to because we know that it takes you much longer. So you don’t have to think about it because you can’t do it as well anymore and you just have to fucking accept that!” 

Bucky had never seen Natasha so angry. Her otherwise cold features suddenly flushed warm and bright red as she shouted at him, berating him. Any other day he would have found himself stunned to see her, had he not been the target of her anger. Clint looked positively alarmed at the situation, looking at both his parents argue and sink deeper in the armchair at loss of both words and actions. 

“I can’t fucking do it because you come in here and do it for me before I get the chance! My place doesn’t have to be spotless all the fucking time Nat. I’ll get to it when I get to it and then I’ll do it myself. When will you, _any of you_ realise that I don’t need any fucking help?!”

And at that, Natasha laughed. “Not need any help, are you fucking kidding me right now James? Did you even know how big the pile that was in your sink? Did you forget that we had to come here every week until a month ago to make sure that you took a fucking shower? That you ate, bring you food so you didn’t fucking live of junk food and fucking cook it for you while all you did was lay on that couch which you’ve got your ass glued to now?! You clutter your living room table until you can’t fucking see it anymore and then you carry on the floor! You only do a blitz session if you know that Steve is coming over, and even that I doubt is done properly and I wonder what the hell he thinks about it and you when he sees that fucking mess. You need fucking help and we are helping you!”

“I don’t want your help!” Bucky pressed his finger to his chest. “Get that in your thick fucking head Natasha, I don’t want your help or anyone’s help. What I want is my fucking independance and you all are doing such a glorious job at taking that away from me! Stop treating me like I’m your pity case. I’m supposed to be your friend, not some little pet project you all come here to pet and make you feel better about your lives!”

“Bucky!” Clint raised his face, the insecurity had been written off now, and now a sense of confidence had come over him. Bucky could hear it in his voice, the rare time where Clint would accept any bullshit. “That’s not fair, you know that’s not true, you are our friend.” 

“Sure as hell doesn’t feel like it.” Bucky snapped. “She’s the one that comes here and tries to steer up my life so she doesn’t have to turn around and look at her own. And then she has the balls to judge me for how I’m dealing with shit? For taking my time and doing shit when I’m ready?” Bucky glared to Natasha. “At least I’m dealing with it. At least I’ve accepted my arm is gone. She goes around telling people that she’s still married, she pretends to live under the illusion for the rest of the world that Nik is alive and well. I’ve got news for you Natasha! He’s not, he’s dead, has been dead for a full fucking year now and you burned him. He’s ash, he might still be your husband but you’re no longer his wife. You are a fucking widow, accept it!”

The moment that the words slipped from his mouth, Bucky wished he hadn’t said them. The colour drained from Natasha, the anger slipped away and changed into pain. Revealing the raw and irritated nerve that he just had wrapped in a barbed wire and tightened. Even Clint looked as if he hadn’t been able to believe what just had come out of Bucky’s mouth. “Nat…” Bucky began on a softer voice, moving around the table to walk over to her and offer his apology to her.

Natasha moved like lightning and came over to him. The previous pain and disbelief was already gone from her, replaced by steel that Bucky couldn’t read until he saw the tears in her eyes when she came close. And her hand cracked across his cheek like fire. 

“You, are a fucking asshole Barnes. You want to be on your own? Fine. I won’t ever help you again, you are on your own, you remember that. But open a fucking window sometimes.” Natasha stared Bucky in his eyes, fury cold as ice again and turned. She left him standing in the living room, went to the hallway and left. Clint bounced up from the armchair and went after her, Bucky followed suit. 

“Nat!” Bucky pulled the door open and saw her just begin jumping down the stars. Clint made it past Bucky and pressed his hand on his chest, pushing him back. 

“Don’t. Think about what you said.” Was all that Clint had to offer him before following after her. Leaving Bucky standing in the hall. 

“Fine! Fuck you both!” Bucky called after them, even if he knew that Clint was in the right. Even if he knew that he had crossed a line that would be difficult to return from. They’d patch it together again he thought, hoped more like it. But now none of that was his concern. Bucky turned back to his apartment, slamming the door shut behind him and felt how the muscles in his back tensed up, hurting all the way down his spine. 

He had crossed the line, Bucky realised that. Though in his anger he felt that Natasha had crossed the line far to many times. And had felt that she had needed to be told her husband was dead. That he wasn’t someone she could come to and forget about it, that she needed to be reminded of how her life was now and what she would have to come over. 

He kicked the table in the middle of the living room, knocking it over to the floor and scattering everything. Pain soared through his foot, but as he watched the mess that he had made on the floor, the knocked out magazines, the glass of water that had rolled over and spilled. The various remotes, a small pot that had contained a wide collection of guitar picks. Bucky took an odd sense of pleasure at seeing the mess ahead of him.

He could clean it himself if he wanted to, he didn’t need anyone’s help. And now he had the perfect opportunity to prove it to them. He looked around in the apartment, and found that it was to fucking neat after Natasha’s round. He went over to the tv stand, knocking the cacti off it. The pot broke on the floor, spilling the dark dirt. And in the same childish fit of rage, Bucky moved his hand behind the blu-rays that Natasha neatly had stacked in the shelf, and in one quick movement shoved out, clattering on the floor.

Bucky made the round quickly through his living room, blood pounding in his ears and back muscles feeling so stiff that the slightest movement would break them apart. He could clean his own home, just as well as he could mess it up and he would prove it to them. He emptied out every shelf he could reach, knocked everything down to to the floor save for the television. 

He pulled out his vinyls from the bookshelf, slow at first and then all at once as they eased. Crashing them down to the floor and not even hearing the sound of them breaking against the floor as some slid out, as he stepped on some to get to his cd’s. He tore at the wires for his music set up, bringing the heavy equipment to the floor. 

He pulled open the door to the wardrobe, grabbed the acoustic guitar by the neck and slammed it against television stand. The wood broke apart, splintered in a sound not unlike a scream. And that was when Bucky paused. He looked to the neck of the guitar in his hand, saw how the wood that he held so close to his body over so many years, for countless of hours showed bright wooden colours, fresh and dry, seeing the world for the first time through the injury of its body.

“Fuck.” Bucky whimpered, dropping the neck of the guitar to the floor and saw how the wood piled up. A lifelong friend beside him, now broken. Strings slack, but yet trying to hold everything together. He covered his mouth with his hand, stopping any more whimpers that threatened to escape as the guilt came over him. Guilt for what he had said to Natasha, guilt over how he had acted. Guilt over having trashed his apartment just because he felt like he could. And now facing the dreaded realisation that he would have to clean it up. And that it would take him days. 

A sob choked him up, his eyes blurred with tears and he felt his knees go weak. He sank to the floor and hugged himself. He leant forwards, pressing his temple against the floor as he began cry, clutching at his side, searching for an arm to hold on to that wasn’t there any longer.

-

Steve looked down at the picture in his book, green colouring pen pressed against his lips as he debated on what colour to use next. For the past four hours Steve had been sitting in his kitchen, colouring book open on the table and pens scattered around him, the bin placed next to him for whenever he needed to sharpen any of them. And now, Steve felt he finally was getting somewhere with the centaur in the middle of the woods.

The book had small, intricate details that had sucked up most of his time, and now Steve had completed over half of it and could finally start to focus on the bigger picture. He put the green pen down, and picked up a dark brown one. Just as he pressed the tip of it to the page, he heard his phone ring from the living room. Steve sighed, put the pen down and left his seat. 

He found his phone the moment before it stopped ringing, giving Steve barely the time to see Bucky’s name on the screen. He swiped at the notification telling him he had a missed call and placed the phone back against his ear. The phone barely rang twice before Bucky picked up. “Hey sorry about that, I just missed you. What’s up?” Steve walked back toward the kitchen, looking at the image he had been colouring in. 

_“Steve?”_ Bucky’s voice was weak and hoarse, cracking and crumbling to pieces. Steve halted in his movement, forgetting about the centaur in front of him. _“Steve? Steve I- I fucked up. I fucked up man I- shit.”_ Bucky began to cry. 

“Bucky what happened? Talk to me. What happened?” Steve asked. The question that was burning within him though was asking what Bucky had done. Somehow that felt like going about it the wrong way. Bucky continued to cry on the phone, barely hearing the words of comfort that Steve tried to offer him. Steve went to the hallway and stepped into his shoes. He grabbed his jacket and left the apartment. 

It took him a couple of minutes to calm Bucky down, and by then Steve was already walking down the street to head to Bucky’s apartment. Shooting in the blind and hoping that he was home. “Bucky come on sweetheart, tell me what happened.” Steve wanted to curse at the traffic that wasn’t willing to ease up against him when he needed to bounce across the street as fast as he could. 

_“I broke my guitar.”_ Bucky eventually said in the phone. He sniffed, and Steve took his chance to cross the road, continuing his hurried walk. _“I said some fucked up things to Tasha. I got angry, I started smashing shit, I broke my guitar Steve. Fuck. I broke my guitar. I love that thing, I shouldn’t have said any of those things but they made me so angry Stevie you’ve got to understand, please.”_

“Hey hey it’s okay, where are you? Are you home?” Steve asked, finding it difficult to believe what Bucky was telling him. How could he when he had promised Steve he’d teach him more. 

_“Yeah, shit man my neighbors called the cops cause of the noise. I had to talk to them and make them leave and everything. My place is a wreck. I’ve got to clean this mess up and… and- fuck my guitar Stevie.”_ Bucky began to sob again. _“I love that guitar Stevie. That guitar was me, and I broke it.”_

“I’m coming over okay? I’m sure it’s not as bad as it seems, I’m sure we can fix it somehow.” Steve tried to sound optimistic. “Forget about the mess, the mess is nothing. And friends fight, sometimes they say mean things. Don’t worry about it, I’ll be there soon okay? And we’ll solve all of this together, just wait. You’ll see. Just don’t go anywhere, and don’t do anything stupid okay?”

Surprisingly, Bucky laughed at that. A strained sound. _“I’ve already done enough stupid for today Stevie. It’s in pieces. We can’t fix it.”_ Bucky sniffed. _“It’s broken Steve. I’ve fucked up beyond measures.”_

“Listen, it will be alright. Okay? I promise you that Bucky. I’m nearly there okay, you keep talking to me. Or listen, that’s fine to. Do you want me to tell you something? Want me to tell you a tale from work? Something to get your mind off it until I get there and we fix it? Because we are, okay? Things are going to be alright.” Steve told him.

_“Yeah, alright, yeah.”_ Bucky sniffed again. Steve could almost picture him. Sitting on the floor while leaning against the couch, his entire side against it and his head slack against the cushions. Shut eyes and curled up with the phone against his ear. 

So Steve started telling him a tale from school. Told him what his students had made for the days classes and told him about what else Steve had learned about the school. The small mistakes he had made ( _because we’re human, and humans make mistakes sometimes_ ) and misunderstandings with the other teachers and how those moments had been remedied. And Bucky listened, Steve heard him on the line even if he didn’t say anything. He heard the others soft breathing as he pressed down the code for Bucky’s building and let himself in. 

“I’m going to knock on the door now okay. It’ll be me.” Steve said as he saw the door in front of him. He figured that it was unlocked, but he wanted to give Bucky his space to take it in his pace. There was a soft murmur on the other end of the line and Steve guessed that the other was getting up. Steve raised his fist and rapped his knuckles on the door. 

Barely a second after the door opened, and Bucky stood in the doorway. Shoulders slumped, hair a mess and red cried eyes. The moment those red eyes saw Steve, Bucky broke in front of him all over again and he began to cry. Steve just grabbed Bucky by his shirt and pulled the other in his embrace. 

Bucky hid in his chest, sobbing against Steve and let the other hold him tightly. Let Steve brush his hand over Bucky’s hair and whisper to him. “Hey, it’ll be okay. I’m here now.” Bucky kept nodding at that, but Steve wasn’t certain just how much that Bucky believed those words. He calmed down again after a couple of minutes, but Steve held Bucky in his embrace until the other made a move to pull back. 

“Can I come in?” Steve asked gently, squeezing Bucky’s arm. The other nodded but never once raised his gaze. Bucky went back inside, and Steve followed. He gently shut the door behind him. 

“Keep your shoes on, there’s glass and shit around.” Bucky paused, looking at Steve as he took of his jacket. “I uhh, I stepped in it. Or maybe it was part of the pot I don’t know.” Bucky raised his foot, looking at the gash that was on it. The sole of his foot was red with blood, but the wound had stopped bleeding. 

“We should look at that.” Steve reached out to take Bucky’s hand, but he just stepped away and into the living room. Steve, feeling awkward at going inside while still wearing his sneakers, followed. Upon seeing the mess, he understood what Bucky had meant. The apartment was fully trashed, and had Steve not known better he would have thought that Bucky had a burglar break in. 

Bucky was squeezing his side as he looked over the disaster, shame written all over him. And then he gestured over to the small pile of wood by the wardrobe where he kept the guitars. He stepped over a broken flowerpot, a round cacti laying on the floor and gave the remnants of wood a kick with his bloodied foot. “Can’t fix that Steve. It’s broken.” Bucky’s voice was cracking again. “And I was an idiot.” He took a sharp intake of breath. “I pulled out all my vinyls. Some of them broke to, and I stepped on them, genius that I am. I just got. I just got so angry.” 

“Bucky what happened?” Steve asked gently, stepping over some of the mess to join Bucky by his side, unsure if he could touch him or not, place a comforting hand on his shoulder. Bucky licked his lips and shrugged again. 

“Clint and Nat were over here. I called them over, Wanted some company. It’s… it’s an odd sense of anniversary pretty much. And she just. Walked around and cleaned. I just wanted company Steve, and she’s wandering around cleaning and tidying up after me as if I don’t do it, and can’t do it. And she pulled out the bucket so she could begin dusting and… and I just lost it Steve I don’t know. I got so angry and started shouting at her and Clint and I said some really mean things that I really shouldn’t have. And they stormed off and I just. I started wrecking shit because I was so angry. I wanted to prove that I could still clean myself cause she always does that and well.” Bucky sniffed again. Tears began to roll down from his eyes and he pinched his nose. 

“I fucked up. That’s what happened. I fucked up on so many levels. She’s so pissed with me now, I’ve wrecked all my stuff. I’ve wrecked my guitar. And now I’ve got to clean everything and I just… it’s going to take days Steve. I can clean, I just wanted to prove that.” Bucky looked at him, so desperate for someone to understand him. “I just wanted company Stevie, I just wanted to have company today.” 

Steve couldn’t watch it anymore. He couldn’t stand there from the side and do absolutely nothing. So he pulled Bucky in, hugging him once more and hoped that it would make Bucky feel better. He felt how the other clutched at his jacket, and hid away in Steve’s chest from the world. “It’s okay. We’ll fix this. I’m sure it’s not as bad as it seems.” He felt Bucky shake his head. 

“No Steve, no, I jabbed the knife just where it hurts for her. Right in her side and into her liver and kidneys. I said what shouldn’t be said. The achilles heel or whatever the hell it’s called. I don’t think there’s going back from this Steve.” 

“Listen to me Bucky. You and Natasha have been what, friends for twenty years? Almost twenty?” He felt Bucky nod again. “It’s one argument. And emotions run high and things are said that shouldn’t be said. I’m sure she’ll understand that, just, give it a day or two. Let her cool of, and let you cool of and calm down before you go talk to her okay? I’m sure it’s salvageable. And I’m sure if you explain, then she’ll understand okay? You said it yourself, you just wanted company. You didn’t ask for her to come and clean.” Steve said on a soft tone, brushing his hand through Bucky’s hair and felt him pull away. “Okay?” Steve tried again, trying to catch Bucky’s bloodshot eyes but he avoided his gaze, whether it be from shame or any other emotion still burning through him. He didn’t want to look at Steve. 

“She always does it. Ever since I lost my arm.” Bucky said on a soft whisper. “At first I needed the help you know? Figuring things out. And I was in a slump and I admit. I didn’t do it as well and nearly as often as I should have. I was grateful for it to. It lifted me off something so I didn’t have to worry about it. And in a way I think it helped her to, get her out of her apartment and all that.” 

Steve wondered what Bucky meant with that, but didn’t ask. He didn’t get the chance to anyway. Bucky continued. “But then I got better, and I’ve made a lot of progress Stevie. I know it doesn’t look professionally cleaned or neat. I know there’s clutter and shit. But I’ve gotten better. And I can do it myself, more importantly, I do it myself. Again maybe not as often as I should. But I do it, I’ve won that bit of independence back you know? And I just want to hang out and she strips that independence away from me. And I tell her and she tells me it’ll be done soon, it won't take long. She does it to help. How on earth do you argue against someone offering you help. It’s very hard for them to take no for an answer. I just… I just want to do things for myself you know? I like to think I’ve earned that much.”

“You have.” Steve tried to make him realise that. He caught Bucky’s red eyes for a moment. And this time Bucky let Steve’s gaze linger. “I understand what you’re trying to say, and it’s a reasonable thing to want Bucky. Everybody wants independence. I think… I think she just. Found it hard to realise that. I think that people who aren’t in need of help, find it difficult to understand why someone who they _think_ is in constant need of help wouldn’t want it.”

Bucky took a sharp intake of breath again and looked away. He knelt down through his knees and began to sob again, pressing his hand against his forehead. Steve knelt down beside him, pushing away some of the CD’s from he floor and a few magazines before sitting down beside Bucky, carefully pulling him in his embrace again. 

Bucky sobbed for a couple of minutes again, not moving away from Steve, and just trembled under his arm as he gasped for breaths. Leaving Steve powerless beside him, just rubbing circles on his back, and whispering words of comfort. “It’s not easy accepting help either.” Bucky eventually whispered when he calmed down enough. 

“That’s ironic isn’t it? It’s fun when you’re capable, you accept all the help you can get with moving furniture or whatnot because you’re lazy and it will go so much faster, but you can do it yourself if you want to. And then, then you reach a point where you can’t do it yourself and you need help, but that’s when you don’t want the help at all. Because that’s when everyone is jumping out of their seats to help you and shove you away in the corner while they do it because they don’t fucking mind and you’re standing there like a wallflower watching something that you know you’re at least partially capable of. They do it out of the best of their hearts they truly do. But it brings you so fucking down Steve. That’s the worst part, there’s a constant reminder there, hanging in the air that you’re different from everyone else, weaker, fucking broken.” Bucky hissed the last world, and while Steve could see the sorrow that the other was feeling, a form of grief he found it difficult to place his finger on, at that last word all that Steve saw and heard was an anger and frustration that Bucky had carried deep within his chest. A hatred towards himself and what he had become, even if he couldn’t see that he was still like everyone else. 

“And… and it’s accepting that. Accepting the help, accepting that you can’t do certain things. Accepting that I need fucking help carrying my groceries sometimes, that I can’t open the door and drag my stuff inside in one swift movement. That I can’t use a knife and fork at the same time anymore. That I can’t help my friends move if they asked me to, that I can’t play guitar anymore. And I can’t decide which feeling is worse. Knowing that I can’t do things, or knowing that I can’t help them like they help me all the fucking time.” 

Steve didn’t know what to answer to that. And Bucky kept looking down, the face of an utterly defeated and exhausted man who wanted nothing to do with the world in which he was kept anymore. He leant heavily against Steve, and it gave him a feeling that if Bucky were to fall asleep that he would sleep for several years. Sleep until all his problems had gone away, sleep until the world had figured out a way to restore him to his former glory. And Steve found that he absolutely had no idea how to comfort him. And yet, the helpless feeling that Steve had probably wasn’t even remotely similar to how Bucky felt on a daily basis when it came to controlling his surrounding. 

So all Steve found himself able of doing was to just hold him and give Bucky the time that he needed to calm down and collect his thoughts. He didn’t know how long they sat on the floor like that. Amongst the mess of someone else's life. But Steve knew that he couldn’t stand the silence. “We should clean up your foot.” Steve offered gently, and a part of him was surprised when Bucky nodded and accepted the offer for help. “Do you have a first aid kit?” 

“No, but I got stuff in the bathroom.” Bucky told him. Steve nodded and got up from the floor, leaving Bucky sat where he was, leaning against the back of the couch. Steve went into the bathroom, looking through the cabinets for enough any medical supplies that he could use. He found a bandage, bundled up. He grabbed the pince and a hand towel. Back in the living room he helped Bucky back up to his feet, and followed him out into the kitchen. Bucky muttering something about natural light. 

Steve spent the next ten minutes in silence with Bucky, the others foot in his lap as fished out the pieces of glass that had burrowed in Bucky’s foot. If it hurt the other didn’t let it show. When Steve thought he got out all the pieces, he cleaned the blood away with the hand towel soaked in warm water. When he reached for the bandage Bucky stopped him. 

“No, I still gotta clean up in there. And I want a shower after. Save that for later, when I come back out. I only got one. I’ll put over a sock or something and put on my shoes.” Bucky told him, Steve nodded and put the bandage back on the table. 

“Okay.” Steve leant in to give Bucky a kiss on his forehead and went to get him a pair of socks, confident in which drawer Bucky kept them. He picked up Bucky’s sneakers from the hallway on the way back, and gave them to Bucky, letting Bucky pull them on himself. His foot hurt, and for the first time Steve saw how Bucky winced when he put his foot down in the sneaker. “Do you want me to help you?” Steve asked carefully, not sure if the question was out of line after all that Bucky had told him. “Clean up in there? Or do you want me to stay out of it?” 

Bucky had paused, gaze down onto his shoes as he thought the offer over. And when he looked to Steve he was still as exhausted as he had been the moment he had stepped into the apartment. “You know, it feels like you’re the first one to actually ask rather than to assume that I do.” Bucky nodded a couple of times, brushing his hair behind his ear. “Yeah, I think I’d like the help.” 

Steve got up from the chair and followed Bucky out into the living room. There he waited in the doorway at first, allowing Bucky to take initiative on what he wanted to clean through himself. And rather than kneeling beside Bucky when he began to pile the magazines up and put them in the couch, he went back out the kitchen. Steve found a bag, and went over to the other end of the room where he began to clean up the cactus remnants. After all that Bucky had told him, he couldn’t bring himself to kneel down beside Bucky and take the work out of his hand. And in an odd way he wanted to show Bucky he respected him by taking a step back. 

He wasn’t certain if Bucky appreciated the gesture, but he didn’t comment anything about it. And in silence they started to work through the living room. Steve did his best to find the biggest shards of glass laying around, along with pottery shards from the flowerpots that had kept the cacti. Once confident he had gotten the largest pieces and all that remained were the fragments, Steve went and put the bag out in the hallway. 

They cleaned the mess up in silence. Steve moving faster than Bucky, but he had a feeling that the other was moving slowly for a different reason. At times Steve would look over at him to see how he was doing, and find that Bucky would just sit on the floor with whatever he held in his hands and stare down at it. He could sit like that for several minutes before he continued. 

At one point Bucky had paused everything, and asked Steve if he thought that his apartment was a mess, a dump. Steve had told him earnestly that he found it a little bit messy at times, a bit cluttered. But far far from a dump. That seemed to pacify Bucky a little, and he opened a window.

It wasn’t until Bucky reached the vinyls that he asked for Steve’s help. And cleaning that mess up turned out to be… painful for Bucky. Together they looked over every single vinyl to see which ones had made it out unscathed, and those Steve put back in the shelf on the placement that Bucky asked of him. And every now and then they’d come over a broken vinyl and Bucky would begin to cry all over again when they sorted it through. The whole process took about three hours, and by the time that they were done Steve’s back was aching from sitting on the floor and Bucky looked as if he was about to collapse. 

The cd’s went a lot faster. Only some had gotten cracks across the cover, damages that Bucky said he could live with, and together they put them back on top of the bookshelf in no particular order. Bucky said that he didn’t want to deal with it now, he was tired, and he had a headache. 

The last bit that needed to be done was set his music equipment. Which took less then ten minutes as Bucky pointed out where the wires would go and Steve connected the whole thing up again. When Steve asked him if he wanted to play something to make sure that it worked, Bucky just shook his head. And together they stared at the remnants of the guitar, the last item on the floor amidst a powder of glass, dirt, small pieces of pottery and dried footmarks with blood.

“Can you throw it out please?” Bucky asked him. And Steve knew and understood at that moment that Bucky knew he was capable of physically doing it. But at that moment he was asking for physical support. So he gathered up the remains of the guitar in another bag, and set it out in the hallway. 

“Do you think that you could, hoover and mop please? I want to take a bath.” Bucky wondered when Steve came back out. And without any hesitation Steve nodded. 

“Yeah of course. You take your time. And something for your head to okay? I’ll be out here for when you’re ready, and we’ll patch up that foot of yours when you come back out. Do you want some food? I can see what’s in your fridge and get dinner going?” Steve suggested, but Bucky waved that suggestion off. 

“No, I just want to order pizza or something.” Bucky muttered, placing his hand on his stomach. Steve was struck by the feeling that the other wasn’t hungry, and merely agreed on pizza to pacify Steve. Good enough for him, at that point Steve didn’t care what Bucky ate, as long as he ate something. Food had an uncanny ability of always helping in most situations, no matter if it was good for you or not. 

“Okay. We’ll order when you get back out here. Fix your foot, get you into some fresh clothes. I’ll handle the floor in the meantime.” Steve promised Bucky, who offered a drained smile to him. His eyes were still red, but didn’t have the watery shimmer to them anymore. 

“Can you stay tonight with me please? I understand if you don’t want to but…” Bucky couldn’t bring himself to finish his sentence. So Steve took it upon himself to finish it. 

“You just wanted some company for today.” Steve filled in, and Bucky looked back up at him, red eyes filled with relief and hope. “I had no plans for today. I’ll stay tonight. I’m going to have to bring a back of clothes to keep here at this rate.” Steve placed his hand in Bucky’s neck, hoping that the touch offered some comfort. And much expected, Bucky leant into it, gratitude in his eyes and stepped back. He muttered a thanks, and turned to the bathroom. Steve could see that the bottom of Bucky’s sock had now begun to turn red again, and Steve was glad that he never had put away the bandage. 

When the door to the bathroom closed, Steve took a look around the living room and was struck with the realisation that the had no clue where Bucky even kept his vacuum or his mop. After a quick run through the cupboards that could possibly house the items, Steve found them. He hovered the floor, ensuring that all the glass and pottery was gone before he tackled getting the dirt out of the rug. When that was done, all that was left were the bloodied footprints on the wooden floor. Those he got rid of quick enough, and he spent more time trying to scrub a red stain out of the rug. Eventually, even that came out. 

Steve shut the window, the draft having cooled down the apartment a bit to much. And went in the search of candles to make the room which less than an hour still had contained such an awful memory for Bucky into something new. Someplace warmer and kinder. Different from what he just had been in. And went to throw away the two bags he had left in the hallway.

After that, Steve found that he could do nothing else but wait for Bucky. So he watched some television, even if he didn’t really keep his focus on what was going on. At some point Anya had padded out from the bedroom, hesitant in her movements. But when she saw that the situation had calmed she joined Steve up on the couch, purring for his attention which he was more than happy to give. 

It took Bucky an additional hour and a half before finally left the bathroom. Towel wrapped around his waist and the t-shirt he had been wearing back on. Still hiding his shoulder from Steve. He went into the bedroom. And when Bucky appeared again he was wearing fresh sweatpants and a different hoodie, a fresh pair of socks in his hand and barefooted. “Do you want me to do your foot?” Steve asked. Sheepishly, Bucky nodded. 

And as Steve checked over Bucky’s foot for the second time, the other was placing orders for two pizzas on his cellphone app. Steve wrapped the bandage tightly around Bucky’s foot, keeping the gauze in place and then just watched him. Holding his hand on the others leg. 

“They’ll be here in half an hour.” Bucky muttered. And with that they moved to the living room again. Bucky didn’t say anything, and Steve stayed quiet as not to pressure the other. Together they wound up watching a documentary on the TV about a murder house, but Steve had a feeling that neither of them was watching. He kept stealing glances of Bucky, who only had a thousand yard stare in his eyes. And Steve knew that he didn’t have the right amount of focus to watch what was happening on the screen. 

Pizza arrived, and even that they ate in silence. Steve was the one who cleaned up after them, getting rid of the cardboard boxes and leaving their plates in the sink. When he came back to Bucky the other had curled together under a blanket, put his hood up and leaned against Steve. Not knowing what else to do, Steve let Bucky come to rest against him and placed an arm around the other. Focus once more on Bucky than the television. He watched the stare in the other’s eyes, watched how it was twisting and turning out thought after thought. Watched how he pulled the sleeve over his knuckles and rested it against his lips like a small child. And it made Steve realise that Bucky was far from as strong as he thought he had been. 

It made Steve realise, that after all their time together that he had only scraped at the top of Bucky’s frustration and emotions that coursed through him. That the phone calls after meeting up with him were small and unimportant compared to the major moments like these, when he had been so overwhelmed by what he had been feeling that he hadn’t been able to control himself. And it made Steve realise that there was absolutely nothing that he could do besides just stand at the side and watch. That he couldn’t help, and that he just stood there until Bucky needed him. 

No, that he just stood there until Bucky was willing to let him in. To open up in depth over what he had been feeling and be comfortable enough to share those emotions with Steve. And in that sense he supposed they had made a step of progress. Bucky had called him, he had allowed Steve to come in and to help him and he had opened his heart and poured out his soul to Steve. He trusted him enough to do that. 

It was a morbid, depressing step of progress. And the question that burned through Steve was nothing else but wonder, how many other of these moments had happened in the past three months where they had known each other that Bucky hadn’t shared. If there had been any. For all Steve knew Bucky had been wandering on a high after meeting Steve. Seventh Heaven was a real thing, and maybe now he would come crashing down to the world and go back to the state he was before. Maybe the Bucky that he was watching now by his side would change forever. 

It occurred to him that the Bucky he had gotten to know was nothing more but an outline. An outline of passion music, a love for crude jokes and an anxiety that made him double guess every move that he ever made around Steve. 

And Steve felt angry with himself, for being so blind and not realising that the light anxiety that he had been told of, that he had come to learn over the phone was just the wrapping paper of the present that contained a turmoil of thoughts and feelings. He felt angry with himself for not understanding that it was so much more for Bucky, that it ran so much deeper and that there was so much more that he had to work through.

Had he known all of that before, he would have been able to help. Or at least, Steve liked to think that he would have helped. A part of him knew that he would have balked if he had been faced with that after the first week. He had nearly not given Bucky the second chance and forgiven him for not texting him back properly. What if he had been faced with this level of wreckage after the first week? 

Steve knew that the chances were more than likely that he would have turned his heel and walked away, never to look back. As anybody would have done even if they liked to think otherwise. One could be understanding, but bombs like this could ruin any foundations they were about to build. And in that he also felt just as selfishly grateful as he felt guilty for thinking it, that he was glad that Bucky had waited with showing this side of himself. With entrusting it to Steve. 

Now Steve knew Bucky, and he had come to learn what a wonderful and funny person he was despite all of his flaws. Now Bucky was someone that Steve would be willing to fight for. Someone he was willing to hold hands with and guide them through whatever imagined hell they were seeing. Steve realised, understood and decided that now he had the strength to be there for Bucky. And that he wanted to help him, and that while he might not be able to at first. He could offer relentless support. 

He could be the one talking to him late at night on the phone, getting his mind on other paths. He could be holding them while they slept and he could sit next to Bucky and not talk, when Bucky just needed someone beside him. He would be there to patch up his foot when he stepped through glass, and he would mop the blood away from the floor. 

With that thought in mind, Steve pressed his lips against Bucky’s hood. Giving him a kiss and felt how Bucky was breathing against his side. He felt him shift. “Steve?” Bucky asked on a hoarse voice, drained and distant in another world. But when Steve looked down at him he saw that the thousand yard stare had disappeared. Bucky was back beside him and out of his head, even if he wouldn’t look at him. “Do you want to know what happened with my arm?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading again! The next chapter will be pretty self explanatory considering I'm leaving you all with a cliffhanger this time round.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Bucky tells his tale, and you all get to meet Nik.

“Yeah! I mean, yes, if you want to of course. I didn’t-” Mean to sound so excited? Steve suddenly felt like a moron. Bucky didn’t seem to have noticed, and if he had he certainly didn’t show it to Steve. Instead he moved away from Steve’s side and brushed his covered knuckles by his nose. Steve watched him, curious and expectantly as he waited to see what Bucky would do.

Bucky just pulled off his hood and ruffled through his hair with his hand. It was comically flat the side of his head which he had rested against Steve with, and the rest of it stood out in all directions possible. “I need to get a drink first. Do you want anything?” Bucky moved to the kitchen before Steve had the chance to answer him.

“Sure.” Steve called out after him, having a sinking feeling in his gut that he would be needing it. He hadn’t expected Bucky to tell the tale. Curiosity had burned through him of course, and there had been many moments where he had wanted to ask the question even if he had promised himself that he wouldn't. He had always told himself that he would wait until Bucky took the initiative and told him. Now when Bucky was finally offering to tell the tale he wasn’t certainly he wanted the aura of mystery lifted. It had been something he had taken a morbid sense of enjoyment in, wondering if it had been an accident. And if so, what sort, car? Motorcycle? Bicycle? Had it been a disease? Some form of cancer? And now he was so close to the truth and Steve… felt conflicted with the need to know, and finding that at the end of the day it didn’t matter. He had come to care for Bucky either way, how the other had lost his arm was no longer relevant to him.

Bucky came back out into the living room and passed a bottle to Steve. He took it and Bucky disappeared back into the kitchen again. Steve looked at the label, stroking his thumb over it. Golden rum, who even drank rum like this? He thought for a short instant. Bucky came back out with two glasses and sat down, not even bothering to go and get a bottle of coke. Apparently, Bucky drank rum pure.

He leaned back against the couch and Steve opened the bottle, pouring the drinks out for themselves. On the second glass however, Bucky kept gesturing for him to continue until Steve had almost doubled what was in it. It came to little surprise that it was the glass which Bucky took and drank from. Steve hesitantly took his own glass and sipped from it. The liquid was sweet, but with the heat burned down his throat and pooled together in his stomach. He grimaced a little bit, and Bucky remained unphased by it as he drank.

They sat in silence for a moment, leaving Steve unsure if Bucky wanted him to reach out and offer comfort. Or if Bucky just wanted to sit in the silence and think over what he was about to say. Apparently it was the latter. For Bucky cleared his throat and began to talk. “It’s been a bit more than a year now.” Bucky began slowly, tasting the words on his lips. Steve tilted his head a little bit to the side, stroking his fingers over the glass.

“A year this past twenty-fifth. So a year and a week.”

-

" _You are a grown ass man, no grown ass man with a little bit of self respect wears nail polish James.” Nik argued from behind the speaker. Bucky chuckled at him, giving the speaker one additional push and felt how Nik tried to pull it into position. “Not even a grown ass gay man with a little bit of self respect wears nail polish!”_

_“It’s your wife who gave me the make over Nik, do you honestly expect me to say no when she sits down and wants to try out the new colour on me?” Bucky asked, glancing at the deep purple shade that she had painted his nails with. He wouldn’t admit it out loud but he rather liked the look of it. It gave him a nostalgic feeling, and made him feel like a punk rocker again from the time he had been in high school. Not that he ever had grown out of it, he had just toned down the style._

_Nik was quiet behind the speaker for a moment. Then came another tug and a grunt. “You’re right, don’t say no.” Nik gasped for a breath, and then sighed in relief as they finally got the speaker in position. Bucky snorted and rolled his eyes._

_“Thought so.” Bucky dusted his hands on his jeans and looked up at the speaker they had shoved in the back of the van. “Fuck me.” Bucky breathed, grabbing the hem of his t-shirt and lifted it to feel the cold January air against his skin. Moving the speaker was by far more hassle than it was worth, and by far the least favourite task they had when they were playing shows. At least now it was cold, and it chilled them just as quick as the work warmed them up. During summer it was hellwork that he was more than happy to pawn of at Scott and Clint._

_“Rather not.” Nik commented as he appeared from behind the speaker, leaning against it and wiped his brow with his wrist. Bucky rolled his eyes in response and looked out to the street where the rest of their cases were gathered up. More to pack in, just brilliant. If Bucky didn’t love what he did, he wouldn’t be bothered with this. At least the assembling and disassembling was fun, to bad that he had gotten to do so last show and they switched._

_"Hey you okay?” Bucky then asked and turned back to Nik, he raised his eyebrow. “You were off key during some songs. During You give love a bad name? And some other songs. It’s unlike you that’s all.”_

_Nik shrugged in response and went out of the van, he bounced down to the concrete. The chain by his belt rattling. “Got a bit of a headache. Had it all day, won’t really pass, advil and everything.” Nik gestured with his hand and knelt down beside one of the cases, pale white skin becoming visible by his knees through his torn jeans._

  _"_ _Migraine?” Bucky asked and joined him out on the street. He knelt, and together they lifted the case into the van. Once placed in the van, Nik wiped his brow again and leant against the large speaker they had shuffled in minutes earlier._

_“Nah, I can still see so.” Nik shrugged. “It’s just being a little bit of a bitch.”_

_“Why didn’t you say? I could have sung if you needed to sleep it off.” Bucky asked. Nik grabbed his long blonde hair and tied it into a ponytail. Beads of sweat started to form again on his temple and Bucky thought that he looked pale. He passed by Bucky again and jumped back out on the street, chains rattling again._

_“Cause I wasn’t puking my guts out or having a fever.” Nik said simply and picked up Scott’s bass guitar case. Bucky frowned, knowing full well the rule they had established when they started playing music for a living that they only called in if they showed one of those symptoms. Nik being granted the additional one of being hoarse. In all the years they had played they had only needed to cancel two shows. And the other three where one of them had been ill they had managed to shuffle things around so the show still went on. The artist life._

_“You just don’t look perky, that’s all.” Bucky went out to grab his guitar case._

_“Shut up James, I’m fucking handsome.” Nik commented from inside the van. Bucky chose not to reply to that and passed over his case when Nik gestured for it. He kept a watchful eye on the other, waiting to see any form of sway, any hint that Nik wasn’t standing stable on his feet. If he was, the other didn’t give him the privilege of seeing it. Instead the bastard was being clever and leaning against the speaker again._

_“Nik?” Bucky started carefully. Nik glared up to him with his blue eyes, annoyed at the concern that Bucky was expressing, so rather than push further on the matter if he was well or not, Bucky chose to change the subject to save himself. No wonder Nik and Natasha got on so well with one another, neither liked to share with other people. At times it had made Bucky wonder if they even shared things with one another in their marriage. It would forever be a mystery how it worked, and it was something he was in no hurry to find out. “I started to think that maybe it was time for us to plan another trip you know? Feels like we haven’t been anywhere in ages. And now when we’re caught up on bookings and all that, it seemed like the right time to voice something before we get booked up again.”_

_Nik visibly relaxed at the suggestion, the muscles in his shoulders visible through the others tank top lowered and he raised his gaze to Bucky again in a neutral expression. One that quickly became strained again as he pressed his thumb just above his ear. “Yeah sure, whatever. Sounds good to me, take it up with Nat. But please, anywhere but Asia this time? We always go to freaking Asia and if I have to eat noodles one more time abroad I am going to drown myself.”_

_“Africa?” Bucky suggested, raising an eyebrow to Nik. He had sounded snappy, and Bucky hadn’t been sure on how to deal with that. Nik had always been the epitome of calm, speaking as if he made a living as a yoga instructor in this life, and his five previous. In all the years of knowing Nik Bucky couldn’t remember ever seen the other angry. Well, one time, but they had all been furious and it had been quite fun to unleash Nik on their former boss. But never once had such an anger, such a snappiness with such a sharp edge been directed towards him. And thus Bucky didn’t know if he’d fuel the fire by telling the other to fuck off or by leaving him alone. Both options could end up good, and both could end up as a disaster._

_“Sure, Africa. Whatever. Hey listen, can you go and get me some water?” Nik asked, trying to sound casual about it. Bucky hummed and darted out of the van, half intend on bringing back two advil as well for Nik and intent on making someone else drive the van back. The problem of course was, everybody except Nik had beers that evening. Clint they couldn’t ask. Even if he felt sober and they got pulled over, it would most likely show as something different and then Laura would murder him._

_Bucky was pondering solutions as he went back inside the bar. Clint and Scott were just finishing up the last of their equipment, rolling together wires and shoving them in the case while talking over something that Bucky didn’t catch. The bar was almost empty, just a few stragglers left by the counter by Natasha and the barkeep, also involved in a deep discussion which Bucky assumed hardly was as intelligent as the intensity of their expressions made it seem._

_He snuck up behind Natasha and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her and leaning them both over the counter. “Your husband is being a lil prick.” Bucky told her, watching just as the barkeep disappeared out back with a tray of dishes._

_“Mm. His head is killing him give him a break. I told him he shouldn’t have played. The noise probably didn’t help.” Natasha placed a cigarette to her lips and took a drag, than offered it to Bucky. He accepted, happy to have found a place that was willing to bend the rules a little past closing for staff._

_“He’s about as stubborn as an old donkey being forced into retirement. You got any painkillers for him? Not that he’s asking for them but I want to rub them in his face if he does.” Bucky asked, letting go of her again as she reached for her purse and began to dig through it. It didn’t take long for her to find the package of advil._

_“Pro of being a woman. Always have painkillers on hand for when the Russians come and visit and dance away.” Natasha mused, tearing of two from the sheet and handed them over to Bucky. He accepted them with a confused look to her. Natasha laughed at his expression. “The Russians? My period James. At times it feels like there’s Russian folk dancing on your back and on my stomach when I have it. With all the jumping and twisting?”_

_“Ah.” Bucky responded with lack of other things to say. Natasha laughed at his expression again. The barkeep returned back from the kitchen and Bucky considered himself saved from more euphemisms he had no intention or will of learning. “Hey could I have a bottle of water?” Bucky asked of him, the man just ducked down and took one out of a fridge that Bucky couldn’t see, straightened himself and tossed it over to him._

_Bucky thanked him and went over to Clint and Scott, picking up Scott’s rucksack and took it out with him. Nik was still leaning against the speaker in the van, both of his hands on his knees and his head lowered, not even looking up when Bucky entered. Bucky dropped the rucksack on the floor and handed him the bottle._

_“Thanks.” Nik muttered under his breath, twisted the cap and drank from it. Bucky didn’t say anything, even if he had all the opportunity for smartass comments and the two advil were burning in his back pocket. Begging to be shoved in front of Nik’s eyes._

_“Don’t mention it.” Bucky tore himself away from the other, allowing a break for Nik while he went out on the street and continued packing their van, relieved to be so close to the end and now started to long for his bed. An hour from now he would be standing in his shower, an hour and a half from now he would be laying in bed, probably with his laptop open as he searched for a clip or two to keep him accompanied with on a lonely night, allowing him to relax and drift of into sleep. The internet was for porn and praise be god._

_It distracted him from Nick, made him forget about the frustration he held towards the others stubbornness at not accepting help. And even more for pushing himself and pretending like he was only in mild discomfort while Bucky thought it was pretty clear than that. In a way, he supposed that it was better than Nik whining at every single thing that was going wrong and throwing a man-flu like Clint did._

_Bucky continued to pack in the last of their equipment that was out on the street on his own, all while Nik remained leaning against the speaker and occasionally taking half hearted sips of his water._

_“James?” Nik’s voice sounded weak and drained, pulling Bucky’s focus away from the small box with microphones and some other wires he was going through. He looked at Nik, who had pushed himself away from the speaker and now was swaying on his feet with the bottle of water pressed against his temple. “James you need to- you need to get Talia. Go get Talia.”_

_Bucky stood dumbfounded and rooted to the spot as he watched Nik, rather then turning and doing as he was told. Instead his instincts pushed him closer. Then Nik looked up and stared Bucky in his eyes, and he felt a chill rush down his spine as he found the eyes empty, his face ghaunt and whiter than snow, clammy and sweaty._

_The next second happened so slowly. Giving Bucky the chance to see every miniscule movement a thousand times over and thinking a million different reactions over it. Nik’s eyes rolled back into his head, and he tilted his head back along with the movement. His knees went out from under him, and Nik slammed back into the edge of the speaker with such a force that it was hard to believe only a slack body had pushed against it. Bucky had just enough time to see how Nik’s body started to shake before the speaker was pushed over fully._

_It came crashing down, and Bucky tried to get out of its way with a mouthful of curses. The van had however been filled fully by him, leaving little room for Bucky to dodge to. The speaker hit him partially in his chest, and tore down to the ground and landed with Bucky on the floor. The speaker came down on him a second later, pinning him down by his chest and slamming down on his arm._

_“Fuck- Nik!” Bucky shouted, the pain throbbed throughout his arm, and he pulled it out from under. Scrambling back up onto his feet and came over to Nik. The muscles in his friends arms and shoulders were tensed up, clearly visible in his neck as his head jerked back with violent movements._

_“Fuck fuck shit-_ **_Tasha!”_ ** _Bucky shouted, hoping that anyone would hear him in the pub. He looked down to Nik helplessly and in his panic tried to remember what people were supposed to do during seizures. Was it make sure they didn’t bite their tongue of? Hold their head still so they didn’t slam it into something? No, that didn’t feel right. “_ **_Tasha!”_ ** _Bucky shouted again._

_Since when did Nik have seizures? Nik had never had seizures, and the headache he had been sporting the entire day… Bucky felt his insides grow cold while a small, rational part of his brain tried to tell him that it was only a seizure. People had them all the time and were fine. In a minute it would stop and he would wake up again, dazed and confused._

_“_ ** _Tasha!_** _”_ _No response. Bucky looked around in the van, he had to put something under his head, that was what he had to do he remembered that now. And just when the thought struck him Nik’s head slammed back and into the steel floor, causing an eerie ripple of sound through the van. Why the fuck didn’t they have anything soft in the van? Just boxes and cables and speakers and sharp hard edges._

_“Come on man you’re okay, you’re alright I’m here.” Bucky tried, in vain most likely but the words slipped out of him before he had the chance to stop them. Nik’s head slammed back against the floor again, and Bucky decided fuck it. He placed his hands around Nik’s leg and was surprised by the strength that was coursing through the body of his friend. And in a quick, not so deft movement Bucky managed to slide his thigh and calf under the others neck, at least now he couldn’t hit his head anymore._

_“Bucky?” Scott’s voice was a godsend. “Bucky what’s going on what was that-” Bucky shouted at him the moment he saw Scott’s face._

_“_ **_Go get Natasha!_ ** _” He screamed at Scott. Scott just needed one look of motivation at the scene and darted back inside. Bucky thought that he heard Clint make a sound of protest and a collision, but he didn’t care. “C’mon man work through this you got this you stubborn donkey!” Bucky hissed to Nik, fighting the urge to give him a slap to wake the other out of it._

_Nik’s body tensed up again, his head moved backwards once more, and then fell slack just as Clint clambered into the van and pulled a case out of his path (the same bloody case that had jeopardized Bucky’s escape from the speaker, he thought bitterly) and came over to him. White as a sheet, but not a ghost. “What the hell happened!” Clint screamed more than asked him._

_“I don’t know I-” Bucky forced himself to swallow and looked to the doors of the van, wishing for Natasha to be here now. He still held Nik’s head in his hands, scared that if he let go the whole ordeal would begin again. “He said he wasn’t feeling well and then he fell and started shaking!” The panic had laced itself in Bucky’s words. “Hey Nik? Come on man this isn’t fun anymore you prick wake up.” He begged, wanting so desperately for those eyes to flutter open._

_They didn’t._

_Natasha tore away Clint, sending him stumbling backwards as she took his place, her hands touched his face, nails the same colour as Bucky’s own. “Nik. Nik look at me, Zaichik please look at me. What the hell happened James?!” Natasha demanded furiously, glaring at him with all the blame in the world._

_“He fell.” Bucky risked taking his hands away from Nik’s head now with Natasha’s own hands stroking his cheeks so gently. “I thought he fainted and then he started shaking and wouldn’t wake up and-” His throat was parched, that was when he noticed. “He’s not breathing…” Bucky whispered on such a low tone that he was surprised Natasha heard him. If she heard him at all._

_“_ **_Call a fucking ambulance!”_ ** _Natasha turned and shouted to Clint and Scott. Clint looking helplessly on with his hand covering his mouth, and Scott already with his cellphone pressed against his ear and seven steps ahead of them all. Natasha turned back to Nik, whimpering. “Nik, Nik, Zaichik look at me, please open your eyes come on bunny. Open your eyes do it for me.” Natasha begged, and it was the most heartbreaking sound that Bucky ever had heard in his entire life._

-

“So he had a seizure?” Steve asked carefully, watching how Bucky was filling up his drink again. He didn’t like at the rate that Bucky had finished his drink but he hardly felt like he was in the position to tell him to slow down. Bucky shrugged.

“Sort of, there was more to it than that.” Bucky put the bottle down on the living room table and ignored to put the cap back on. Instead he took his glass and drank again, pulling both of his legs back up in the couch.

Steve didn’t say anything and watched Bucky, waiting for him to continue. Bucky didn’t say anything for the longest of times. Instead he had his glass pressed against his lips, stuck in thoughts from a different time. So Steve dared himself to speak up.

“So the speaker that fell on you…?” He began carefully, gently tugging at a string that Bucky probably wanted to ignore, probably wanted to forget had ever happened.

“Is the big bad boogeyman in all this, from under the bed or the closet. The crooked man. Cujo, Slenderman, the devil, satan, whatever scares you the most I suppose.” Bucky shrugged with a nasty expression, a scowl full of venomous anger, ready to spit out at anyone who spoke up out of turn. So Steve remained quiet. “The irony is that I didn’t break it. If you can call it that. One would think that you’d have to shatter an arm before they take it off. But not even that, not a single crack. Turns out I drank all the milk I needed to when I was a kid.”

-

_“Is that even possible?” Clint asked in disbelief, speaking to the doctor for Natasha who had been unable to. She hadn’t been able to look away from the hospital floor while clutching Nik’s jacket tightly to her chest. Occasionally she burst into tears, allowing either Bucky or Clint to wrap their arm around her and pull her close to them for comfort. They had been waiting at the emergency for the better part of six hours waiting for someone to come and talk to them._

_And every time a doctor had walked past them their hopes had been raised only to be crushed again. Until eventually a doctor had walked up to them and asked Natasha if she was Natalia Romanova. She was, Clint had said, and that was when they all had been filled with dread over what was about to be shared with them._

_“I mean, seems a bit overkill, doesn’t it?” Clint looked at Bucky and Scott for support. Natasha was still looking to the tiled floor. “An epileptic seizure, a stroke,_ and _a heart attack at the same time?” There was a twinge of hope to Clint’s words, and Bucky didn’t doubt that the other was clinging onto hope that the doctor was mistaken. That he had just mashed his way through wikipedia articles and Dr. Google rather than having taken Nik in and examined him in the hurry they had come in with._

_The man gave them a thin lipped, sad smile. “We don’t call it a stroke.” He said softly._

_“But that’s what you’re telling us. The seizure blocked the blood in his brain. That’s a stroke or at least a version of it. My wife’s uncle had exactly that. Isch-something stroke.” Clint argued, and Bucky was surprised with how rational he managed to sound. How confident in what he was saying and how objectively he was looking at the matter. For once in his life Clint was serious, and picking up all the slack that Natasha had left trailing behind her in her panic._

_“He had a headache.” Bucky interjected in a raspy voice, the doctor looked at him. “He told me, he told Tasha. He had a headache he couldn’t get rid of. That’s also stroke isn’t it? Headache before it strikes?”_

_“A person about to have a seizure can also have headaches, they can feel nausea and discomfort days before it happens in some cases. And when such a seizure blocks blood flow to the brain we don’t like to call it a stroke, despite being remarkably similar in action and behaviour.” The doctor spoke gently, the sound of a man bringing nothing but bad news._

_Clint raised his hand to end the discussion and instead focused on the other malady that the man had mentioned. “And the heart attack? Look at him doc, he’s young, he’s fit. How on earth does he get a heart attack and Fatty McLard over at McDonalds doesn’t?” Now there was anger to Clint’s voice. The doctor seemed unphased._

_“We believe that the heart attack was caused by the stress that his body went through. The seizure was pretty severe. And it wouldn’t be an unlikely reaction.” When the Doctor saw that no one would argue that or offer a questioned, he continued. “We have done what we could, but at this point there is no telling what damage has been done to his brain from the lack of air and blood. We’ve put him in a medical coma for now, his body needs to rest first. He is breathing with the help of a machine now, nothing out of the ordinary and standard procedure for someone in his case.”_

_“Will he be okay?” Natasha piped up on a weak voice. She raised her eyes from the floor and meeting the Doctor’s eyes for the first time since he had joined them. Her eyes were bright red, causing an interesting contrast with her much darker red hair. “I need to know, will he be okay?” She asked, and Bucky squeezed her shoulder, feeling pain throughout his entire arm._

_“At this point, we can’t tell yet. I’m sorry.” The doctor lowered his head. Natasha bit on her lip and nodded, then she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand._

_“Can we see him?” She asked carefully. The Doctor hesitated at first, but then nodded. Natasha was up on her feet with a surprising speed. Still holding Nik’s jacket to her chest. Bucky and Clint exchanged a look with one another before getting up and following. Scott trailed after the latest, always having been uncomfortable with hospitals and letting it show despite his best efforts not to._

_They walked up the hallway with the doctor ahead of them, feet shuffling through the silent hallway in the early morning. He led them to a room and pushed the door open. Natasha shot inside, instantly sitting down by the one chair at the side of the bed and pulled it closer to the edge._

_Nik was laying in a hospital gown in the bed, both of his arms above the sheet and the blanket, needles and wires connected to him. It wasn’t that sight which bothered Bucky, what bothered him was the almost obscene way that the tubes were shoved down his throat, kept in place with white tape, and his hair, long and collected from over the years had been shaved off. Natasha took his hand, the jacket she had been holding fell to the floor._

_“Nik? Nik honey it’s me, wake up.” She told them, Bucky heard Scott mutter a jesus behind him, and he wondered if she already had forgotten that they had put Nik in a medical coma. Most likely, he assumed, or else she wouldn’t have begged like this._

_Clint was the first one of the three in the doorway to step inside. Not surprisingly, he walked behind Natasha and placed his hand on her shoulder. bucky liked to imagine that he squeezed her, offer comfort in the small gesture that he could. Natasha took Clint’s hand, but her focus never waivered of her husband in the bed._

_“I can’t watch this.” Scott said, backing away from Bucky and back out into the hall, Bucky couldn’t blame him. A good part of himself wanted to tear himself away from the scene as well, turn around and go home. Pretend it never happened and not call for another week. So that when he did Nik would be able to answer the phone with whatever loving insult was on the tip of his tongue._

Shit, _Bucky thought and looked at the man in the bed again. Here was the man he had shared an apartment with in their early years of moving away from family. He had come to The United States from Russia barely speaking a word of English, persistent to chase dreams and had responded to a freaking flyer that Bucky had put out on a streetlamp. And then Natasha had come to translate the most vital things in the beginning of their roommate career. They had bonded over miscommunication and dictionaries, and somewhere along the line Natasha and Nik had grown close, until eventually they became the married couple that they were._

_Bucky still remembered the fury and joy he had felt when they told him they had gotten married, eloped away from everyone. Overjoyed that the couple he wished to be together and happy more than anything had said yes to one another. Furious that he hadn’t been there to see it. And now Nik was laying in a bed with a tube down his throat, machine breathing for him, other machines that gave of a slow but steady beep for every heartbeat. Shaved hair which he had prided himself on, bandages covering gashes that the doctors had created to cut him open most likely. Bucky didn’t even want to imagine. And yet, despite all of this alienation around him, the machines, the noises, the bright light that seemed so odd for someone who’s entire wardrobe basically consisted of black and dark grey, despite of all that Nik looked utterly peaceful like that. In his drugged sleep._

_It made Bucky want to cry. And he stifled the whimper, the moan the groan, he wasn’t  entirely sure what sound he would have made if he hadn’t covered his mouth with his hand._

_“So what now?” Clint asked, turning his focus back to the doctor. Bucky stepped aside so the man could enter. His posture was drained, and Bucky had a feeling that whatever the man was about to tell him wouldn’t be the sort of news they wanted to hear. Then again, they hadn’t exactly received any good news that day. If they ignored when he had told them that Nik was not dead._

_“We will have to wait, give his body some time to recover. Then we will run some more tests to determine the damage and lift the coma. I’m afraid all we will do for now is wait.” Clint did not look happy at hearing that. “I would suggest you all go home, there isn’t much else we can do this moment. Go home, get some sleep, shower and eat something. And come back here when you feel like a different person. We will call Mrs Romanova with any changes in his condition.”_

_“Condition?” Natasha looked away from Nik, still clutching his slack hand in her own. Her knuckles were white. “No, he will wake up you see. We will be in the car and he’ll wake up and he will wonder where I am. And then we’ll have to come back and pick him up. It’s best if I stay here.”_

_“Tasha.” Clint said softly, a part of him also sounded broken. Devastated at seeing Nik like that, devastated at hearing Natasha sound so desperate, so unlike her otherwise cool and calm collected self. “We won’t be gone long, you’ll be back here again in a few hours.” He tried, Natasha’s eyes were burned onto Nik. But when Clint tried to get her up to her feet she went with surprisingly little protest._

_Everybody moved back out to the van with little thought on their mind. Bucky was struck with how interesting it was that they all moved so robotic, so confident in their movement when they all were miles away in their eyes. They dropped Scott off first, asking if Clint was certain that he didn’t need him to stick around to unload the van. Clint just told Scott that unloading the van was the last of their priorities._

_After that Clint dropped Bucky off, and while Bucky hadn’t wanted to go at first, Clint had assured him that he would look after Natasha. And so Bucky had been left on the sidewalk in front of his apartment. It was ten in the morning, and he felt utterly exhausted. He showered, got changed in fresh clothing and inspected the bruise that had formed under his arm, every muscle in it ached. Bucky thought little of it. The speaker weighed one hundred and fifty pounds, his arm was bound to ache and bruise. He could flex his fingers still, so that was a good sign._

_He dug the advil out of the back pocket of his jeans, and hesitated to take them when he finally had them in the palm of his hand. The back up plan for Nik’s headache, and there he was with that fucking tube down his throat, a machine breathing for him. A medical sleep that would no doubt be the best of his life._

_Bucky pushed out the pills from the metallic wrapper, arm stinging as he did and swallowed them with water from the bottle on his nightstand. He didn’t think that he would be able to sleep, with his thoughts buzzing through his mind like that and the image of Nik in his head, the sound of Natasha’s desperate begging in his ears, and the ghosting feeling against his thigh of Nik’s head slamming back against him._

_But when Bucky laid his head down on the pillow, he was asleep within seconds._

_When he woke up a couple of hours later, he felt groggy and his arm was still throbbing. he rolled over in bed and rubbed his eyes. Then gripped for his phone in the dark of the room. the screen lit up in an agonizing way, and when his eyes finally got used to it he saw that it was only fourteen thirty-one. He tried to sleep for a little bit more, having received no texts from Natasha, Clint or Scott about any changes._

_But he couldn’t, the thoughts he had worried would ghost him earlier, ghosted through his mind. And now when he had his focus on the throbbing pain of his arm he couldn’t help but let his mind trace back to it. So Bucky rolled out of bed, stomach growling despite not having any appetite. He took two more painkillers and found some leftover pizza that yet had to cross the line to questionable. He ate it, and spent the better part in the couch while he waited for a phone call, shifting every couple of minutes to get comfortable and get annoyed by the slow speed the painkillers seemed to do their work._

_A little bit past four he got a call from Clint, saying that Natasha was up and wanted to go to the hospital now. So he was moments away from turning the key in the ignition and they wanted to know if he was coming along. Bucky said that he wanted to come. An hour later, he, Clint, Natasha, Laura and Scott walked through the hospital doors again. They had moved Nik, to which Natasha started to sob at. Bucky and Laura took it upon themselves to comfort her while Clint went about to find out where they had moved in. Scott just looked uncomfortable._

_Sitting in the room with beeping machines was timeless. It both raced by and crawled at the pace of a snail. Neither of them said much, and Natasha just sat by Nik’s side, comforted by Laura. Clint sat on the small couch in the corned of the room and Bucky beside him, unsure of what to do. Scott was making a coffee round._

_“This is just, unbelievable, isn’t it?” Clint eventually managed to say. Bucky didn’t know what to respond, so he just settled for a nod. “I mean fuck. Yesterday this time he was alright. I don’t like it when they’re being evasive rather than say shit out right you know?” Clint lowered his voice, to make sure Natasha didn’t hear them. Truth to be told Bucky didn’t think that she would. He rolled his shoulder in his socket and winced. Clint looked at him curiously. “Like, he calls her Mrs Romanova all the time. Doctors only use last names with bad news.”_

_“He’s going to be fine.” Bucky whispered back, he didn’t want to think of any other options. But Clint, the realist, who had been through hell and back in his life just looked at Bucky with a sad smile. Of course the one who had been through shit in his life would be more open for bad news. And Bucky knew that he was doing the right thing, bracing himself for the inevitable. So Bucky knew that he was being childish in holding on to that little fragment of hope, that small chance that after all this Nik would wake up when they lifted the coma, and that there would be no damage to his brain._

_Bucky rolled his shoulder again, taking a sharp intake of breath. The pain darted through his fingers again, two of which had started to tingle. He looked down to his hand and flexed them. Clint looked at him, curiously. Maybe he was relieved that he had something else to focus on even for just one second. “You okay?”_

_“Yeah my arm is just hurting.” Bucky told him and rolled up the sleeve of his t-shirt, showing the darkening bruise on his swollen bicep, then lowered it again and nodded over to Nik. “When he fell, he knocked over the speaker and I couldn’t get away from it so it fell on me, mostly my arm. I just, forgot.”_

_Clint nodded, glancing back to Nik and sighed. “We’re in a hospital buddy, you should go and check it out. It looks nasty. Besides.” Clint grimaced. “It’s not as if there’s a lot happening here.” Bucky hesitated, looking back to Natasha who was sobbing in Laura’s arms again. “Go down to the emergency room. We’ll call you.” Clint patted him on his thigh and much against his will, Bucky got up._

_He couldn’t decide which was worse._

_Sitting in Nik’s room where nothing happened and all that they saw and heard was Natasha’s despair, or the emergency room where everyone’s misery piled over, either clearly or hidden away in stoic faces. There was a man with a bloodied towel around his hand, a woman calmly reading a book and a little boy, screaming in the arms of his mother until his face turned scarlet._

_And Bucky waited. The child disappeared, and an old lady in a wheelchair appeared with her husband in their stead. And Bucky waited some more. The man with the bloodied towel disappeared, and a kid with a nasty scrape on his leg and a skateboard under his arm came in their place. Scott came down at one point, offering coffee to Bucky and told him what was happening up in Nik’s room, which it turned out to be, was not much at all._

_Eventually a nurse came and collected Bucky, who by now was feeling the pain all the way into his shoulder, and started to get a headache from it himself. There was a twinge of panic to it however, and all he could think of was Nik and his headache, how he had fallen to the floor and started to shake all over. And a part of him wanted to remain rational and kept trying to tell himself that it was only a tension headache that he had._

_The nurse brought him into a small examination room, where he waited an additional five minutes before a doctor came in and asked him to take of his t-shirt. He did. And for the next ten minutes the woman poked and proded at the arm, seemingly on the hunt to make his arm hurt even more by making him stretch his arm._

_Bucky’s mood certainly did not improve when she informed him they were going to insert a catheter into his arm. Which at first confused the hell out of him. The only time he had heard of a catheter had been when his grandfather had needed one to be able to relieve his bladder, and he didn’t understand what that had to do with his arm._

_The doctor brought more bad news, and said that to check the pressure in his arm which was her main concern, they needed to put in a catheter with a transducer connected to it (which she explained, could tell them the pressure) into the bruise. And the catheter, Bucky found out, had to be inserted at least two inches deep._

_“And how exactly do you plan on shoving a needle that size into my arm, when everything that touches it hurts?” Bucky had asked her, and had done his best to sound polite to her. The woman was only doing her job after all, but he was exhausted from the previous night, and constant pain grated on anyones nerves. The woman had only smiled stiffly, and told him they would give him anesthetic._

_So Bucky called Clint and told him that they were going to shove a needle in his arm to measure the pressure, and that he didn’t know when he would be back up to the others. The local anesthetic that the doctor gave him was excruciating at first before it started to do the work it was supposed to do. And near the end Bucky felt a little bit woozy, if he had been able to he would have counted himself lucky for when they inserted the catheter into his arm._

_Whatever the doctor was looking for, she found, and she wasn’t to happy with the result. So the catheter remained in his arm and they left him in a bed. When she came in with another doctor, this time a surgeon, Bucky had to explain the whole ordeal over again and she informed the surgeon of what she had done for tests and the results of such._

_“Right. So here is what we are going to do Mr. Barnes.” The surgeon began, and Bucky wanted to laugh. Thinking back of Clint who had said that Nik’s doctor kept referring to Natasha as Mrs Romanova, so it couldn’t be good news. And here he was, a couple of floors down being called Mr. Barnes by a different surgeon._

_He didn’t want to listen to what he had to say, but Bucky forced himself to do so anyway. Acute Compartment syndrome, they called it. Essentially they explained, the speaker which had fallen down on him had damaged the fascia in his arm. Which they explained was a layer in between his skin and his muscles. Seeing the fascia neither expanded on it’s own, a swelling would cause the extreme pressure in his arm, and would block the blood flow in it._

_Another taste of irony, Bucky thought. Nik had lacked blood flow in his brain, and here Bucky was having the almost same issue in his arm. What had he done to deserve this he wondered? Karma was a bitch, here he had thought he had been collecting good karma in his life._

_And what they were going to do, they said, was a fasciotomy. It meant they were going to cut open his arm to relieve the pressure. It had already been a long time since the speaker had fallen on his arm, and it was best to get going as quickly as possible so he wouldn’t gain any more damage in his arm because the lack of blood flowing through that portion of his arm. The creepy part however, Bucky thought. Was that he would be staying at the hospital with an open wound until the pressure receded. That could be a full week. The thought gave him chills._

_He felt guilty when he had to call Clint down to join him, the other had to much on his mind already while looking after Natasha and the last thing that he needed was to hear that they were going to put Bucky under for surgery themselves. But he didn’t know who else to ask that was right there._

_Laura couldn’t move away even if she wanted to, Natasha clung to her. Scott was spooked by doctors and hospitals in general so he didn’t want to put him through that. Natasha he couldn’t tear away from her husband, she didn’t even have to know for as far as he was concerned, she already had far too much to think about. In another life and universe, he would have asked Nik._

_Clint however, bless his annoying ass and ability to get on anyones nerves and Bucky’s in particular at certain times, came down without question. Bucky hadn’t told him over the phone what it was about. So when Clint came down and Bucky told him what the doctor and the surgeon had told him, he couldn’t believe it either._

_“But it just fell on your arm! They need to cut your arm open just for that?” Clint asked, flabbergasted. All Bucky could do in response was shrug. There wasn’t much else to say about the matter. The doctor and the surgeon updated Clint on the situation as per Bucky’s request as he was filling in the forms. Bucky went ahead and listed Clint as his emergency contact, and his friend took Bucky’s phone and went out to call Bucky’s parents and his sister._

_Bucky would have wanted to do it himself, but the surgeon pressed the matter of the surgery and that they were losing valuable time. So he never got the chance and was given hospital gowns to wear instead. In a way he found it funny, how all this was happening and he was going about it almost emotionless, almost mechanical. He still felt exhausted from the night, and now with the pain in his arm lessened from the anesthetic for the catheter only had made him feel tired._

_So he went into the bed that they were given, given some drugs to relax and waited. Scott came and kept him company, doing his best to keep Bucky on different thoughts but doing a rather terrible job at it. Bucky knew he didn’t mean it, and he himself found it difficult to believe that four hours earlier he had been told to go down to the emergency room and get his arm checked out by Clint. And now he was about to go under the knife and have his arm cut open for the next few days to come._

_The operation theatre was forever grafted in Bucky’s mind, and he didn’t think he’d ever forget the sight. It was odd really, how he remembered the room so clearly down to the pattern on the scrubs of the nurses, their eye colour and the sound of their voice. But he could for the life of him not remember how their voices sounded._

_And the most remarkable thing he thought, was how quickly that he fell asleep when they gave him the anesthetic. He had never believed that you fell asleep before they counted to five. But Bucky could only remember hearing two before his eyes fell shut._

_-_

“So what happened?” Steve asked carefully. Bucky had paused again to fill up his drink. Steve had been listening to the tale in silence. Allowing Bucky to tell the tale just as he pleased, focusing more on Nik than himself at first. But Steve didn’t interject. It was Bucky’s story and he found it relevant to his own, so Steve had listened to what the other was saying. Bucky offered the bottle to Steve, who accepted a refill. “Did they botch the surgery?”

Bucky shook his head. “No. They didn’t.” He looked at the bottle to judge how much rum was left in it before putting it down again. He had remained remarkably calm while telling the tale. Steve wasn’t sure if he should credit the rum for that, or if Bucky was just to exhausted from his day of hell to react anymore. Perhaps he had sobbed so much during the day that he no longer had any tears to share with the rest of the world. “The fasciotomy, would have been a success. If I had gone under the knife six hours earlier.” Bucky looked at his socked feet, moving his toes and pouted.

“They put me under, they cut open my arm to relieve the pressure and lo and behold. Something wonderful they called necrosis had begun to happen. My muscles had started to die because they didn’t get any blood. And apparently that’s toxic and can wind up in your kidneys and make you life threateningly ill. So the surgeon took one good long look at my arm and decided that it goes off. There was no point in waking me up and asking me about it. Then they’d lose more time for them to act on. And the longer they waited the more complicated it would get. At the end, the surgeon decided between my arm and my life. So he chose my life and off my arm went. I woke up and it was gone. All the way up to my shoulder. Just like that.” Bucky put down his glass, pressing it between his calf and his thigh and rubbed his shoulder, as if reminded what it felt like to have a shoulder.

“For what it’s worth.” Steve began and reached out to Bucky, placing his hand in the other’s neck. And for the first time in the past hour Bucky actually raised his eyes and looked at Steve. The red had finally disappeared from them, and his eyes were clear and no longer watery. Steve smiled a little bit. “I’m glad that surgeon saved your life.”

A ghost of a smile flashed over Bucky, disappearing as soon as it had come over him. He looked down again and took his glass of rum again. Finishing it. “I spent about two weeks in the hospital. And you know the weird part? I didn’t even realise I was down an arm at first. I mean, I did, but I didn’t comprehend it. At all. I had a lot of pain in my shoulder and that was that. I actually went about it rather coldly. Almost tricking myself into blatantly accepting it. And then one morning my phone was ringing and woke me up. And I thought, I was so convinced that I was reaching for it. But it kept ringing and I kept searching for it. I could even hear my hand over that table by the side of my bed Stevie. And just as I was getting annoyed with not finding it and not being able to pick up the call before it stopped I looked over. And there was nothing there. No arm, no hand searching for it. It was all up in my head. That was when it hit me.”

“It is a pretty big thing to digest, it’s not a wonder that it took so long for you to realise it. And you all had a lot of things going on at that time.” Steve told Bucky, squeezing the other’s neck in hope that it would relax him a little bit. But his muscles remained rock solid and tense. Bucky didn’t move away from the touch however, which Steve took as a good sign.

“Yeah, the others were there a lot though still. Natasha practically lived at the hospital at first. Clint came by every day as well with Laura. They didn’t bring the kids to see Nik though, they thought the tube down his throat would scare Lila. They brought them to see me though, that was nice. Scott came with Cassie to, but he didn’t come as often as the others. Can’t say I blame him. My sisters came. Mom and Dad came up from Florida to, stayed until I was out of the hospital and then another week to make sure I was okay. I told them to just go back, that all would end up on it’s own feet again. Truth was I didn’t want them around, couldn’t get comfortable with them, not when I had so much pain still from the surgery. The healing process was a bitch.” Bucky carried on, taking another swig.

Steve nodded, allowing them both to fall in silence for about half a minute before he dared to ask his question. “What happened with Nik?”

Bucky raised his shoulder. “They kept him in the coma. A couple of days later, which is not that surprising for people who just had a stroke or something, even if they refused to call it that, I wasn’t properly listening at that point. He had these… mini strokes? That set him back of course. And then, he had another seizure, which was not what they were aiming for. Seizures after a stroke are particularly dangerous. And after that they could assess the damage and well. His body was working as it should, but there was no Nik left, his brain was fried up from the damage. So he would have become a vegetable. Natasha held on to him for about two more days before she decided that they should turn off the machines and let him go in peace. So she did. We were all there for her and him when it happened.” Bucky’s voice had grown to a whisper, as if he was reliving that particular moment in memory.

“I’m sorry about your friend, and your arm. That just… sounds like a week of hell.” Steve said, a lack of better things to say. But Bucky looked at him again and smiled that soft little smile that disappeared just as quick once more, and Steve felt alright about the matter. Bucky had taken in his well meaning words, and that had been that.

“Do you want to see?” Bucky asked, leaning over the table to put his drink down. His movements were heavy and clumsy, making Steve want to reach out and pull him back in so he wouldn’t fall down to the floor. Somehow, Steve had a feeling that Bucky wouldn’t take to well to that just now.

“See what?” He asked, not following what Bucky was after at first. Not until he gestured over his shoulder.

“My arm, or what remains of it. My shoulder I suppose it is. You haven’t seen me without a shirt on for that reason. You can see it if you want.” Bucky offered, making n movement to take of his shirt, instead he kept his grey and steel eyes on Steve, waiting for him to give his answer. And Steve thought of what answer to give.

He wanted to tell Bucky that he wasn’t defined by what remained on his shoulder, and that it didn’t matter how it looked or not. But a part of him felt that if he gave that as an answer, he would be pushing Bucky away. He would be shutting him down when he was finally starting to open up about what weighed on his chest so much, what complicated his daily life in every turn he took. It was another window, Steve imagined, a different sort of window, but a window nonetheless. This was Bucky inviting him in, showing himself at his most vulnerable. What sort of person would Steve be if he pushed that away now?

It didn’t matter for Steve, he realised. Just as well as he realised that it mattered the world to Bucky. So with that, Steve nodded, showing his desire to see what remained of Bucky’s arm. So Bucky reached for the hood over his head, and in one remarkably swift movement pulled it of over his head. His t-shirt rode up on his back and Bucky dropped the hoodie to the floor. He reached for the shirt in the back of his neck and pulled it off in the same movement. He dropped it to the floor as well, and sat half naked in front of Steve.

Steve reached out to Bucky’s shoulder without thinking. Touching the soft skin and let his thumb run over the white scar line that went just under Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky wasn’t watching him, but instead followed Steve’s touch with his own. “All of that because of a bruise.” Bucky whispered, breaking their silence. He reached over to tap Steve’s bicep, drawing a small circle on it. “The size of that. Funny isn’t it? How something one has all the time as kids can actually turn out to be that dangerous?”

“I don’t think funny is the word I’d use.” Steve told Bucky earnestly, moving his touch from Bucky’s shoulder and down his back again. He scooted closer to Bucky and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “But it’s something, that’s for sure. And I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying you’re sorry. You had nothing to do with it. I’m not blaming you, and I don’t want to be told that people are sorry for my misery.” Bucky shrugged a little, looking at Steve. “I know you mean well, but I hate it.”

“Okay.” Steve rested his chin on Bucky’s shoulder, drawing small circles with his nails on Bucky’s naked back. “Then I won't, but thank you for telling me the story.” Steve saw how the corner of Bucky’s lips threatened to twitch upwards, and then Bucky reached for his t-shirt again, goosebumps had come over his other arm, and Steve let him get dressed again.

“I think I want to go to bed now Stevie, can we go to bed? I feel like I could sleep for a century.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news! I've after a lot of postponing and thinking that I'll get to it finally figured out the full outline of the story and which direction I want it to take. As I've mapped out the finished work should wind up in 14 chapters plus one Epilogue. That is of course, unless I find a better way to split them up as I write. Anyhow, thanks for reading once more!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Bucky and Natasha have a talk, Steve and Bucky have a talk, and plans are made.

Bucky’s stomach was twisting and coiling when he stood in front of Natasha’s door, but he knew he had to do the inevitable and suck it up, raise his fist to the door and knock. He had felt horrible the past few days, hardly wanting to leave bed. He only had with Steve’s encouragement, relocating to the couch with him and watched reality television while Steve was on the other end of the couch. 

He had stayed, Steve bless his heart. He had just gone to his apartment the day after that Bucky had told him the tale of his arm and Nik, to pack a bag with clothes he had assured Bucky. Because he was staying a little while no matter what Bucky thought about it. He had no objections. And sure enough Steve had returned with a bag stuffed with his clothes, some other items to keep himself busy with and a bag of groceries he had picked up. 

Steve had cooked them dinner and Bucky had cleared out a drawer for Steve to keep his stuff in. After they had eaten and went to bed that night, Bucky found that he quite liked seeing a second toothbrush in the bathroom that wasn’t his, the extra towel, some of Steve’s products for his hair and a mug with colouring pencils, markers and a brush on the livingroom table right next to a notebook. The touches of someone else warmed him and Bucky slept like a rock again that night. 

Steve stayed that entire weekend, keeping Bucky company by just merely existing in the same room as him. Reading, drawing, colouring while Bucky was watching television, making him at first painfully aware of how he didn’t have a hobby to pursue anymore. At least until Steve let Bucky try in his colouring book, saying that it was supposed to be quite calming, and fortunately for them, Bucky was right handed so he could still colour. It had to have been the first afternoon in over a year where the television was turned off, Bucky realised as he spent the hours colouring in an English style yard. 

His creation was far from as beautiful as the ones Steve had made. But he reminded himself that this was the first time since grade school that Bucky actually had coloured, while Steve did it for a living. The scales were evened out again when Steve asked Bucky to teach him another song on the guitar. So Bucky spent two hours and taught him Love Me Do from the Beatles. He had thought that it would make him feel worse, but at the end of it they were laughing and enjoying themselves. 

But now Monday had come and Steve had to go back to work so Bucky would be alone for the day. Steve promised that he’d come back straight after school, and made Bucky promise that he’d keep himself busy one way or another. And it had been Steve’s suggestion that he would go to Natasha and apologise. Bucky had told him exactly what he had told Natasha in shame, and had expected Steve to get angry with him. He hadn’t, not even disappointed, and had once more repeated that emotions had been running high and he had been saying things that he didn’t mean. The best way to feel better was to apologise. 

So Bucky had showered, dressed and forced himself to walk over to Natasha’s apartment about half an hour away. Walking was good for the soul, Bucky told himself as he avoided the subway. Even if he knew that if he took the subway he would have to figure out what to say to her much sooner. And there was now, standing in front of her apartment with no idea what to say. 

Rather than waiting, rather than turning around and leaving, pretending he never had been there in the first place, he raised his fist to the door and knocked. Trapping himself in a pit he would have to work his way out of, forcing himself to go ahead with the matter rather than just stand and thread on the same spot. He wouldn’t get anywhere that way.

It was a painful wait for the door to open, and Bucky wasn’t certain if his mind was tricking him into thinking that the seconds were longer than they were, or if Natasha wasn’t in and he had already been waiting for minutes. Then he heard the lock twist and turn, the door opened up three inches and the chain stretched out fully. Natasha stood in the doorway, eyes cold as ice as she observed him, dressed in nothing else but a tank top and sweats. 

“Hi.” Bucky said, shuffling with his feet. “Can I come in?” Bucky asked. Natasha’s face was devoid of any reaction, her eyes observed him. Then the door shut in his face, Bucky could make out the rattle of the chains from behind the door and breathed a sigh in relief, shutting his eyes for the one moment where he could allow himself some weakness. 

The door opened again and Bucky stepped inside into Natasha’s apartment, she was already heading into the apartment. Bucky took of his shoes and put them on the shoe rack as per her house rule. He hung up his jacket and caught himself wondering all over again why he had chosen to come here in the first place. He could feel himself dig his own grave. 

He found her again in the kitchen, where she was making coffee. Either for himself or for the pair of them. Bucky didn’t ask and didn’t assume either, she had every right to be angry with him. But yet he couldn’t help but wish that she wouldn’t give him the cold shoulder like this. They had both overstepped, he still wanted to hold firmly on that, break it to her in a gentler way that he had been uncomfortable with the way she had carried himself in his apartment. 

“I shouldn’t have said those things about Nik. I’m sorry.” Bucky told her, deciding to get the largest elephant in the room out of the way. Stick a needle in the balloon and allow it to either explore or to remove the knot and allow it to deflate. Luckily for him, Natasha opted for deflating rather than exploding on him. 

“You shouldn’t have.” Natasha said curtly, pressed the button on the coffee maker to set the machine in action and put the tin with coffee back down on the counter beside it. Bucky looked down to his socked feet again, wondering where to continue now. It occurred to him that he hadn’t been in her apartment for months, and it surprised him little that her home was spotless. Of course she would keep it spotless and be annoyed that he couldn’t do the same. 

“I just got angry, that’s all.” Bucky spoke softly. “It’s no excuse for what I said or did. But I was angry. I just… sometimes I want to be able to do things myself Natasha. And sometimes you take those chances away from me. Assuming that I can’t do certain things just because I haven’t done that. And I just… I got angry that day because I called you both over for company. I just wanted company, I wanted to sit and talk and… try to make the day as fun as possible so I wouldn’t have to think. But watching you go about cleaning I just. I lost it, it just reminded me of what I was trying to avoid to think about that day.” 

Natasha didn’t say anything. She turned around and leant against the counter, arms crossed under her breasts and looked down to the linoleum floor. Bucky remained silent, not wanting to be the one to carried the conversation fully. Wanting her to realise that what she had done had still hurt and angered him. And it seemed like she was slowly working out what to say in response. 

“I guess I overstepped.” Natasha muttered. It sounded reluctant, but it would have to do. Bucky knew that Natasha hated being wrong and hated even more to having to admit it to him. Her guessing that she had overstepped was a rare occurrence, and one that he would have to treasure when he got it. “I just want to help you when I’m over James.” 

“And I appreciate that.” Bucky told her instantly, not wanting her to think of him ungrateful. She looked up to him, tearing her gaze away from the pattern on the floor. “I do. But sometimes I don’t want to have help Tasha. Sometimes I want to be able to do things for myself, so I can feel like a normal person. Do you understand that?” 

“You need to get better at accepting help James.” Natasha countered. 

“And you need to stop shoving it down my throat all the time.” Bucky retorted. “There are times when I want help, and then I will ask. There are times when I don’t want help, and want to do things on my own, when that happens you need to let me do it on my own Tasha. It might not seem much to you, but for me it jeopardizes my dignity.” 

“You’re down an arm it doesn’t jeopardize your dignity, no one would blame you.” There was a hint of annoyance in her voice as she leaned forward a little bit, staring at him. Angry with having to repeat herself like this, angry over hearing Bucky think like that over himself even if Bucky knew she was warping it in her head. She thought he was knocking down on himself, while Bucky saw it as self preservation.

“It doesn’t matter what other people think. It jeopardizes it for me, in my opinion and none other than my own. Do you understand that? I just want my independence Natasha. That’s all I ask for. And when I need help I will ask.” 

“You’re bad at asking for help. You don’t ever ask for our help. Do you know how hard it is for us to stand at the sidelines and watch you struggle like that? It doesn’t really make us feel very fine James, it’s heartbreaking to watch you struggle so much with daily life.” she hissed.

“Maybe it is.” Bucky felt frustrated, felt as if he was talking to a red brick wall. “But that is my problem to work through, and you won't solve it by taking the job out of my hands okay? Let me do it over and over and let me fail and let me realise, oh hey, maybe for this particular thing I need help. And I’ll ask. But maybe, for something if I do it over and over I will eventually find a way in which I can do it, okay? I need to discover this on myself, I need to figure this out myself. I don’t need you to hold my hand, and I know you mean well Tasha, I really, really do. And I thank you for everything you’ve done for me this past year. I know I’ve been shitty and haven’t been able to return the favor, nothing can forgive that. But you need to listen to what I say at times.” 

Natasha didn’t respond, her cheeks flushed a bit and James wasn’t certain if it was from shame or anger. So he waited for the inevitable where she would begin shouting again, where she would tell him to leave. None of that happened. “And I’m truly sorry about what I said about you and Nik. I really really am Natasha. I didn’t mean any of that. I was just… angry.” 

At that Natasha sighed, and her shoulders lowered while she looked up to the ceiling. She blinked a couple of times before she spoke up. “You know, you’re not wrong though. I guess I didn’t think about it until you said it. I had turned you into my little pet project so I wouldn’t have to think.” She fell silent, then spoke, guiltily. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

Bucky was speechless at that, not with anger or betrayal at the blatant admission that his lifelong friend had made like that in front of him. No, he just felt speechless over what he heard, feeling nothing in particular. 

“It was just easier you know. To look at you and see just what was hurting you. You had an obvious wound, and that was so much easier to care for than think of something that wasn’t there for me anymore. And you needed help at first, you needed help with the pain, you needed help managing before you had figured out even the smallest things. And you couldn’t clean, you said it yourself then. So it was easy for me to just, come and swoop in and nurse something that was visible. While for me… there was nothing. He was just gone. And I didn’t know how to deal with the loneliness. I still don’t I suppose.”

“I should have been there for you.” Bucky said, guilty over not having been there for her when she needed him the most as well. But then Natasha did something surprising, she shook her head, freeing her red hair from past her shoulders and actually smiled at him. 

“You couldn’t have been there for me James. Though I appreciate the sentiment. No one could have been there for me. Not you, not Clint, not Laura, not even Scott with his magic tricks of Laura with her drawings. Not Nik’s parents for that week they were here and not anyone. The only person who would have been able to help me would have been Nik, and well. He wasn’t there to help me. So it helped me to get away and not have to think about it for a little while you know?” 

“Can’t say I understand fully just how it helped, though I can see the not having to think about it part. But.” Bucky raised his shoulder in response, smiling weakly. “If it helped for you, then I’m glad that it did something.” 

“It did more than you can imagine James.” Natasha said softly, the gentle expression setting Bucky at ease, allowing him to relax after the worry that he had built up the past hour for apologizing. He smiled back to her. 

“Are we friends again?” He asked carefully. Natasha chuckled and rolled her eyes at him. She turned her back to him and took out two mugs from the cupboard. Bucky took that as a yes, they were friends again and he had absolutely nothing to worry about anymore. 

-

Marcus was definitely colourblind, Steve thought as he held the picture in front of him. How the woman who taught the class before him hadn’t noticed was beyond him, or maybe she hadn’t cared. In the end it didn’t matter, Steve supposed. People with colour blindness could still create art for as far as he was concerned, if something he found that it added something extra into the art they created if one knew that the artist probably had no idea how badly things clashed. 

Marcus however, had not been aware of it until a classmate had asked him why he was colouring in his horse to be purple and if it was a unicorn. The boy had just looked confused and declared that the horse was brown. Steve had spent a part of the lesson sat with the boy, asking him to colour in things based on the colours that he mentioned. Done a few additional tests and spoken to the boy’s parents when school had been out for the day. 

It had filled his afternoon and set his thoughts away from the past weekend with Bucky, allowing him to feel refreshed again even if the previous day had been remotely lighthearted. Bucky had seemed to cheer up a bit nearing the end of the Sunday, smiling a bit more and even cracking a joke. But it had taken all weekend for him to warm up again and get out of his guilt that had been eating him up alive. 

So Steve had been pleased when he had read the text during lunch that he had gone to Natasha and that they had patched things up again, along with a picture of a coffee mug on a kitchen table, and Natasha sipping of hers on the other end. He was happy for him, and not surprised at all that they had patched things up again, but the way that Bucky had been feeling about it, the worry had worried Steve. And during the weekend he had become painfully aware of how he had been unable of helping Bucky. 

He had been able to comfort, but there was a huge difference between helping and Steve found that he wasn't equipped for that. He could hold the other, let him cry and whisper comforting words. He could offer advice based on what he thought was best, but that was all, and that was painfully little. 

Sam of course hadn’t been happy when Steve called again, asking for advice on Bucky. He had declared once more and loudly over the phone that he didn’t want to meddle, and reminded Steve that he didn’t know Bucky like he did. So he couldn’t offer any professional advice even if he wanted to, and with that also declared that Steve ought to introduce Bucky to his friends now if they were going to be a lengthy thing, which they clearly were starting to be. 

In the end Steve had managed to sneak his issue onto Sam anyhow, and asked if it would be the right thing to suggest that Bucky would go to a therapist to deal with his loss. Sam had been silent at the other end for about fifteen seconds, and Steve had waited while biting his lower lip. In the end Sam spoke the words that Steve had been hoping for. “Are you asking me to recommend someone?” 

Steve had thrust his balled fist into the air as an outlet for his joy and told Sam that yes, yes he was. Sam happily obliged in that, if it meant that Steve wouldn’t badger him about it and just bloody introduce Bucky to Sam properly. Steve promised that he would, as soon as he knew the time was right. He neglected of course, to mention just when that would be. 

By the time that he left the school, bag filled with drawings that he had to look over for the 7th graders, Steve had already gotten an email from Sam, listing the phone numbers and addresses to three Therapists he could recommend for Bucky, based on what he had been told. He texted Sam to thank him, and went to catch the subway to head back to Bucky’s apartment. He read his book on the full ten minutes he spent on the train, and then walked an additional five minutes to the grocery store. 

While Steve loved Chinese, at time he yearned for proper food and thought that perhaps it could do Bucky good to eat something else for a while. He hadn’t objected, so Steve bought food for the evening and some beers as they had finished all the previous night. 

He went to the apartment and knocked on the door, waiting for Bucky to open. He heard the lock fumble, and the door opened fully, allowing Steve to step inside. “You’re late mr Teacher.” Bucky teased, smirking to him and beaming, looking positively better than he had done that morning when Steve had left him. When Bucky barely had wanted to leave the bed in prospect of what he would have to go and do today and spend the rest of it alone after. 

“Well.” Steve began, leaning in to kiss Bucky on his cheek as he stepped inside, kicking his shoes off. “I did the adult thing and went to get us something to eat for tonight. How do you feel about meatloaf?”

“Meatloaf’s fine.” Bucky took the bag of groceries from Steve’s hand so he could strip out of his jacket and carried it out into the kitchen. “Had a good day at school?” Bucky asked, drawing out on the last word so it sounded more like skewl. 

“It was alright.” Steve hung up the jacket, kicked the shoes in a corner and picked up his bag to join him in the kitchen again. “Found out a kid was colour blind because he coloured his horse in purple and claimed it was brown. A classmate asked if he was making a unicorn and he looked so scandalized before informing that it was a brown horse.”

Bucky snorted and put the carton of milk in the fridge. “Really?” Bucky asked. “I had an uncle who was colour blind. He claims that he’s not. He says he doesn’t know the colours because he was sick the day they taught the kids the colours in school and thus never learned them.” Bucky shrugged, turning to Steve with a wink. “Doesn’t even want to admit that he probably would have learned the colours himself over the years.” 

Steve snickered at that little story. “That’s just…” Steve didn’t know what to call it. Bucky filled in for him soon after. 

“Stubborn? We know. You should have seen their car for the longest time. Someone gave the back of their jeep a nudge, so they had to get the door replaced. But they had an off model so it wasn’t easy to find at first, eventually he finds one and went and bought it. Put it on and everything. Then my aunt sees the car and realises that the door is blue, while the car is green. He honestly hadn’t seen the difference.” Bucky was grinning at the memory. “She hated that car until she purposely wrecked it to get a new one.” 

“Wow. That’s a story to tell during Christmases.” Steve began to help Bucky unpack the groceries, placing what he would need for the meatloaf on the counter. His stomach had begun to growl and he wanted to get started on food as soon as he could. He didn’t think that Bucky would object, from what Steve had come to learn the past few months with him was that he had no schedule with food whatsoever. And thus he would eat whenever food was placed in front of him, or just sit and wait it out until his stomach was growling before ordering. Some routine would do him good, Steve liked to think. 

“It gets brought up whenever they’re drunk and then they argue and everyone decides that it’s a good time to go home and avoid them.” Bucky flattened the now empty plastic bag and handed it to Steve. He rolled it up and put it under the sink. “There’s a reason why I don’t spend Christmas with family, we have an uncanny ability to turn everything into a battle. Seriously. It’s not complete until we have people threatening to fight each other. We love each other but jesus, we should really keep a few miles in between ourselves at the best of times. On the bright side, we always know who to call if we’re having trouble with someone.” Bucky opened the fridge again, took a can of beer and offered one to Steve. 

He nodded and caught it, listening attentively to Bucky. He hadn’t told him much of his family before, and thus Steve had forgotten for now what he wanted to bring up himself. “Particularly one of my sisters, you want her on your side. Emily. She’s a taekwondo instructor. Black belt and everything. She has no trouble fending of bothersome guys in bars let me tell you.” 

“She sounds awesome.” Steve opened his can, watching how Bucky opened his own and took a sip. He shrugged. 

“She is, but she can also be a bit annoying. Comes with being a little sister I suppose.” 

“Either that, or it’s payback for you playing the clarinet whenever they annoyed you.” Steve teased. Bucky rolled his eyes and sipped from his beer. Steve reached out for Bucky, grabbing his arm and pulled him in for a hug. Bucky moved with a pleased expression on his face, leaning against Steve and kissed him while Steve wrapped his arm the other. “I missed you today.” He declared in a soft whisper. 

“I missed you to, Mr Teacher.” Bucky hummed, pressing another kiss on his lips. “Want to watch a movie after dinner together? We could find something on netflix?” Bucky suggested, lips barely leaving away from Steve’s as he whispered the suggestion. 

“Sure.” Steve leant back a bit and smiled to Bucky, then cleared his throat. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something first, while we make dinner?” Steve tried, Bucky took a step back, shrugging with his shoulders to indicate that he was listening and drank off his beer. Steve took that as that he was listening. 

“I’ve been thinking over the weekend.” He began, keeping an eye on Bucky to see how he would take the statement. If his skin would begin to crawl with worry and he needed to put a stop to it. Instead he was pleased to find that Bucky had seated himself in a chair and seemed calm. In a way that didn’t surprise him either, after the weekend and the worry Bucky had held over facing Natasha, his body must be feeling the exhaustion of it now. Or maybe after being forgiven by Natasha that he felt he could take the world. “And I was just wondering, if you, you know, ever talked to someone about it?” 

Bucky frowned. “Talked? No. I’ve told you, the others know, I don’t have a whole lot of other people to tell and don’t really have the desire to broadcast it to the world either.” Bucky stretched out his legs and put them up on the other chair. Steve leant back against the counter. 

“I meant like, have you been to a therapist about it. Someone professional to help you through it.” Steve suggested it gently, afraid to be stepping on Bucky’s toes. And when he saw how Bucky frowned and suddenly looked angry, Steve realised he had. “I’m not saying you haven’t. You keep saying you’ve improved so much since then, and I believe you. But, I don’t know, considering how you got Friday, don’t you think it might be worth thinking about?” 

“Why would I want to sit and talk with a stranger Steve? I’ve got you and my friends if I ever have anything on my mind.” Bucky huffed. Angry? Yes. Frustrated? Yes, but he wasn’t going to blow up at Steve. 

“I know, and I’ll be here for that. I just think that… well, I’m not equipped to help you. I can be there, I can comfort you, but I don’t know how to guide you through that. I don’t know how to peel it apart and take the worst parts out, enlighten the bright parts and set you further on a proper path. I don’t look at matters as objectively as that. So I just think that it might be something that might benefit you. So when another incident, if another incident were to happen. It might not bring you as down as it did now, do you understand what I’m trying to say here?” 

Bucky looked positively hurt at that, the anger drained from him, and Steve felt a pang of regret over having brought it up to begin with. He saw how the other was thinking over what Steve said, and managed to twist and turn it into the absolute worst conclusion now with his confidence having been beaten down into the ground. “You’re saying I’m a fuck up.” Bucky muttered. 

“Buck no, sweetheart no.” Steve left his beer on the counter, took the chair which Bucky had rested his legs on and pulled it closer. Bucky removed them, allowing Steve to sit down closer to him. Steve thanked god that Bucky didn’t shy away from his touch, didn’t look away from Steve but looked him in his eyes. “What I’m trying to say is, that I’ll help you, I always will. But I can’t help you as well as a specialist on this. Because you carry so so much in that beautiful head of yours Bucky, thoughts that you haven’t even voiced to me, thoughts that make you zone out for hours at a time. I’ve seen that happen. And I can help you some with that, from what you tell me, but what I’m trying to say is a specialist might be able to help you untangle all those big, beautiful thoughts in your head. The good and the bad, and flatten them out with you on a table so you can look at them from a different perspective. So you can work yourself away from the pain and insecurities and the thoughts you have. I’m not saying you’re a fuckup. I’m saying you’re amazing.” 

Bucky seemed to consider Steve’s words, and glanced them down just as he sniffed. Steve waited for another second, giving him the time that he needed and brushed his fingers through Bucky’s hair. Glad that he wasn’t moving away from him, pushing away and denying Steve from touching him. “Do you really think that?” Bucky asked quietly, and Steve felt relieved. He couldn’t help himself, he pulled Bucky in and kissed him on his cheek, wanting to show his adoration to the other. 

“Of course I do.” Steve whispered to him. “And what you’ve got going on up in your head doesn’t change that. But I find it difficult to sit and watch you be in pain like that. Whether it be real, imagined, or internal and not being able to do anything about it. And trust me when I say this, I think you will feel so much better if you’ve got the chance to talk to someone like that.” Steve didn’t mention that he had already asked Sam if he could recommend someone, that was overstepping, he would suggest that in a couple of days, provided that Bucky agreed with his suggestion. 

“Will you consider it?” Steve asked Bucky, taking his wrist and squeezing it. Steve waited another second, watching Bucky’s gaze drop and how the look in his eyes grew distant. Calculating, thinking and turning over the new little piece that Steve had given him and tried to judge what he thought about it. And then Steve fell into a trap he hated, he wished the words hadn’t tumbled out of him, that he had been able to stop them before they became real. “For me?” 

He didn’t want Bucky to feel like he had to do things for Steve. Steve was all to aware of how easily one small for me would become two, and then three, and then it would become an evergoing circle that never ended. It had taken him months, if not years after one ex to get out of the habit of doing things for other people, and start doing them for him. So he promised himself that it was the first and the last time he’d ever do so. 

Bucky liked his lips, shifting a little bit in his seat but never moved away from Steve’s touch. And if he had even noticed the underlying message that might have been laced into Steve’s words, which he had tried to avoid himself, wasn’t clear. “Nat started talking with someone like that after Nik. She never told us. But he said some clever things to her. I suppose it wouldn’t be to much of a stupid idea for me to also chat with someone like that.”

Steve found himself grinning, pulling Bucky back in and kissing him on his cheek again. He saw how Bucky’s features relaxed, how those white teeth became visible with that small smile of his become clear, felt how Bucky’s shoulder softened up and he calmed himself. Finding that what Steve had wanted to tell him hadn’t been such a big deal after all. That he had worried for nothing. 

“I’m not going to lie Steve.” Bucky looked at him, grey eyes clear and alert. “I’m not fond of the idea in the slightest. Talking to a stranger like that about some pretty personal things. But I’ll give it a try. One try.” 

“One try is all I ask.” Steve assured him, raising one finger to clarify just for the sake of it. “One try.” 

“Will you get started on the meatloaf now? I’m starving.” Bucky changed the topic quick as lightning, brushing the conversation of like it had been a speck of dust on his shirt. Steve wasn’t sure he found that healthy, or the complete opposite. Yet he didn’t find it within himself to deny Bucky any longer, and got up to begin preparing their meatloaf under Bucky’s watchful eye. 

-

“You’re killing me Pete.” Steve muttered, allowing himself to come to a halt as he reached Sam. His sides felt like someone was stabbing a knife into them, and his lungs were burning after air they weren’t getting. He placed both of his hands on his knees and panted. Pietro of course, had not heard him, already having been way ahead of him and showing no indication of slowing down as he continued his round. “Fucking duracell rabbit, look at him go.” Steve straightened, waving his hand after Pietro and heard Sam laugh. “It’s not funny.” 

“Excuse you On your left? Seeing you out of breath his hilarious.” Sam was sat on the bench, scribbling into the notebook he had in his lap with one hand and phone in the other, jotting down Pietro’s time. 

“He’s half my age it’s not fair.” Steve whined and walked over to him, practically threw himself down on the bench and wiped the sweat from his brow before reaching for his bottle of water. Sam frowned at him. 

“He’s twenty-one Steve. You’re thirty-four, quit your whinging. Besides, you make normal people feel bad by just standing next to them, I think this well overdue.” Sam looked out over the track, where Pietro was making quick progress with long, balanced strides. Steve huffed. 

“He even looks elegant while running, freaking duracell rabbit.” Steve muttered before drinking from his water again. All his youth he had been the last kid to be chosen for any sort of game or activity that required some level of physique that a weak asthmatic kid couldn’t give them. And in his teens he had put a lot of work into making sure that he would never be overlooked again for it. He had hated almost every second. Almost. 

And then along came Pietro, running like a freaking natural, like he was part of the wind. So Steve felt a little bit bitter yes, and did his best to try and ignore the fact that Pietro had been running for all his life, even since before he came to the United States with Wanda. He wooshed by them again, Sam tapped a button on his phone and began jotting down the numbers in Pietro’s notebook again. 

“You’re the one who accepted to run with him. You should have known that this would happen. I don’t know where you got it in your head that you’d best him. You don’t even have endurance runner calves. You’ve got sprint calves. And even sprinting he could overtake you.” Sam tapped at Steve’s leg with his pen. Steve drank the rest of his water bottle. 

“I accepted running with him.” Steve said after he had finished drinking, his throat hurt from drinking to fast. “Because when I run with him it actually feels like a work out with him, compared to with other people.” He smacked Sam on his arm, to indicate that he was joking around with him, even if there was a little bit of truth to it. Sam didn’t take the bait. 

“Makes you an even bigger fool than I thought you were.” Sam shook his head. Steve leant in to see how long they had been running like that, and he was ashamed to admit that it had only taken Pietro twenty minutes to drive Steve of the track. And to make matters worse, now when he sat and watched Pietro pick up the pace he understood that the boy had been holding back by his side. He probably considered it to be a warm up. Now he began to show the way he ran when he was competing, Steve realised, and made a note to actually turn up to one of the competitions one day to support their young friend. 

“Did you give him the list of therapists I recommended?” Sam asked suddenly, keeping his eyes fixed on Pietro and finger ready on his phone to tap the end of a round the moment that Pietro passed by in front of them. He wasn’t even red in his face, Steve saw when Pietro wooshed by them again and Sam tapped his phone. 

“No not yet.” Steve leant forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I will, I just had to talk to him first about seeing one. So we did that yesterday, he said he’d try one meeting. Now I just need to figure out how to broach it to him.” Sam groaned. 

“Man, you asked for my help without him knowing again? One day I just won't help you till he asks me himself Steve, I hope you realise that.” Sam didn’t sound nearly as angry as he tried to come across. So Steve looked over his shoulder and winked to him. Sam rolled his eyes. “Unbelievable.” 

“I couldn’t just get him to agree to see a therapist like that, and then go, oh hey here’s a list of people who would be excellent for you. He’d feel ambushed.” 

“And you don’t think that might be what he feels when you conveniently come with it a day later. And don’t you dare tell him you spoke to me about it. I am staying out of your little domestic disputes Steve, and you if someone need help yourself to stop trying to help everyone behind their backs. One day you’ll encounter someone who won't be so happy to accept it and I pray for your sake it isn’t him.” 

“He’s not like that.” Steve assured Sam. “Besides. You don’t pray.” 

“Entirely beside the point Steve.” Sam muttered under his breath. Steve didn’t have to look at him to know that he was shaking his head. He huffed again and wrote down the time again as Pietro ran by. 

They sat silently and just watched Pietro run his laps for an additional ten minutes, the only noise in between them being Sam’s pen against the paper and the sound of Pietro’s light steps every single time he passed by them. Until Steve cleared his throat, feeling the chill in his neck now when his heartbeat settled and he became aware of the cold. Sam had the right idea with his winter jacket. “He told me what happened with his arm.” 

“Oh?” Sams attention peaked again, Steve could hear in the tone of the others voice that he had already forgotten the annoyance that he had tried to direct towards Steve earlier. He looked curious, raising his eyebrows in that way that made him seem like he was judging Steve at the same time. “Well go on then, don’t leave me hanging. No wait, let me guess.” 

“Sam! That’s morbid!” Steve exclaimed, shocked that Sam would find some form of amusement in the whole ordeal. “I can’t believe you.” 

“What! I’ve been curious to know ever since November and then you wont even tell me the moment you let me know you’ve found out. Come on Steve tell me.” Sam huffed again, putting on more of a dramatic flair than was necessary. 

Steve shook his head, adamant at first not to share it with Sam just for that statement alone. But in the end he couldn’t keep it for himself any longer. He wanted to share, he needed to share and lift his thoughts about the accident with someone that wasn’t Bucky. Just like he felt that Bucky would do good to talk to someone else, a therapist. 

“A friend of his had a seizure and knocked down a speaker. It fell on his arm, something in his arm that isn’t supposed to expand on its own expanded and blocked blood flow, and thus ended up killing his muscles. So the surgeon had to cut the arm off or he’d risk get gangrene or other shit instead and die anyway. The friend died the same week in the hospital.” Steve told Sam, leaning forward and rested his elbows on his knees, glancing at Sam who whistled, and just missed to tap the phone for Pietro. 

“Yeah my bet was cancer or something.” Sam muttered and scribbled down the numbers. Steve smacked him on his arm. “I mean it’s horrible either way calm down Steve.” Sam hissed in response, rubbing his bicep. “But it’s not exactly something you hear every day now is it?” 

“I’d say that’s a good thing.” Steve pointed out. 

“Of course it’s a good thing Steve, I never said elsewise.” Sam huffed again, crossing his arms over his chest. He fell silent again, then smacked his lips and began talking again. “I’m glad he told you. Means he trusts you.” 

“I’m glad too.” Steve rubbed his hands together, watching how his knuckles started to turn pink and fought the urge to ask Pietro just how much longer he intended to run. He didn’t however, knowing that he wouldn’t like the answer. And even so, he didn’t want to interrupt his routine. 

“So when are you bothering to introduce us to him? Or do you plan on keeping the pair of you in a glass closet. Openly gay but at the same time not involving the world?” Sam asked, switching topic once more. “We want to meet him. It’s strange that we haven’t met him, you usually introduce a lot faster than that.” 

“Yeah, he just… hasn’t really been that incredibly fond of going out and meeting people I think.” Steve said with a light shrug, not certain if it was an excuse or not. Truth was, he simply hadn’t thought about introducing the others to Bucky, they had been wrapped up together in their own little world away from the rest, that it just hadn’t occurred to Steve. 

And Bucky hadn’t reminded him of the fact either. Sure Steve had gotten to meet Clint and his family on New Years Eve, but Bucky hadn’t invited them. They just happened to go and see the fireworks in the same park so they had met up. And they hadn’t reached a point where they were sick of one another but not enough to dump the other either.

“Well?” Sam questioned again. “When are we meeting him? I think the others want to meet him as well, you keep talking about him but we’ve only seen him once, I’ve had the luck of seeing him twice. He’s a mystery you know? We just want to know who has you smile like a doofus at your phone beyond that picture you’ve got as your background like a child.”

“You have a picture of a birds nest as your background Sam. I don’t think you’re allowed to judge.” Steve teased in return, flashing his teeth to Sam who rolled his eyes and tapped the phone again. 

“I’m a bird watcher Steve. I study Ornithology for fun. I think I’m allowed to have a bird’s nest as my background picture. Besides, it’s a Virginia Rail nest, those are rare around these parts you know?”

“Oh my god Sam. Ornithology is not a word.” Steve argued, knowing fully well that it was. But he considered it his vengeance for when Sam had riled him up like that moments earlier. Sure enough, it made Sam flustered and he raised a finger towards Steve as he prepared to shoot into a lecture. 

“Ornithology is a word and it is a very respected study of birds which focuses on evolution and behaviour and migration patterns and everything about birds Steve. It is a very real study thank you very much.” 

“Yeah yeah yeah whatever you say. Time.” Steve reminded Sam and tapped the phone for him. “Besides, didn’t you chase the mom or dad or whatever away when you went up and took a picture of that nest? Don’t birds really hate it when people come messing with their nests?” 

“Only if you touch them Steve.” Sam scribbled down the numbers again. “I didn’t touch them, I just took the picture. Stop changing the subject! Back to Bucky, when the hell will we meet him? You don’t have any parents anymore to okay him, so we need to do it for you.” Steve snorted. 

“I don’t know. I’ll ask if he’s up for it.” Steve rubbed his hands together again and looked to Pietro, who still ran with the same grace but now started to look a little bit worn out. They both watched how he ran up to Steve and Sam, and then halted his run, throwing his head back and placed both of his hands on his back as his step slowed to a walk. 

“Hey Pete.” Sam began, scribbling down the last couple of numbers and then looked up to the youth. He squinted his eyes at them, hair damp and steaming in the chill air. He must be so warm, that he probably didn’t even feel it through his thin running gear, Steve imagined. “I’m trying to convince Steve to introduce us to his sweetheart, what do you think?” 

“I think that’d be about damn time.” Pietro voiced in, stepping over to them and reaching out to Sam who handed him his sports drink. How he could stomach that, Steve didn’t know, and judging from Pietro’s expression he didn’t enjoy it either. Probably something that his coach made him drink during his runs. “It’s been like what? Three months now? Time to meet the family.” 

“You know, that’s almost exactly what I said.” Sam didn’t look up, wrote down the total time that Pietro had spent running and then clicked his pen. Tapping it against the paper. “You know this is funny Steve. His time improved at about seven seconds per lap once you dropped out.” 

“Oh fuck off.” Steve cursed, hearing how Pietro laughed at the revelation. He felt the youth pat him on his shoulder once he stepped closer. When had he become a sore loser? He answered that question pretty quickly himself, he remembered getting angry over board games with his mother when he was a boy.

“Keep up old man, I’d love to help you get into better shape if you need it.” Pietro teased, rubbing it in one final time so Steve decided to turn the focus away from his failure at keeping up with a kid. Who was close to getting into the national team, Steve tried to remind himself, he was just a hobby jogger. It really wasn’t that surprising he couldn’t keep up. Still, the defeat stung him.”

“I’ll ask Bucky if he wants to meet you guys if you’re nice to me on the walk back home.” 

-

“Looking good Rogers.” Bucky muttered as Steve left the shower, holding the towel by his waist and winked to him before turning his focus back to the colouring book that he had placed out on the living room table. Steve just chuckled a little bit and walked towards the bedroom to get dressed, leaving Bucky alone again, focusing on the swear word that he was currently filling in. 

He hadn’t expected Steve to get him a colouring book of his own when he had tried Steve’s during the weekend. But sure enough, Steve had turned up to the apartment with one for Bucky that Steve had said, he thought Bucky would enjoy. It turned out that there was a colouring book out there in the world that was filled with beautifully written out swear words, with flowers, plants, mandala’s and many more things around the edges of it. 

Bucky of course, had loved the book and had been eager to fill them out. It took time, but for the time being he didn’t mind. It meant that the television was off for the better part of the day, he found himself listening through his surviving records and cd’s while he did, and felt calmer through the day. The bouts of anxiety lessened, and he found that when he was hit with one, that colouring would help him work through it. 

That was an entirely new experience, one that left him tired, but still feeling pleased and at ease. Plus, he enjoyed looking at the curse that he had coloured in with all the beautiful flowers around it. Sure, he wasn’t as talented as Steve, but it felt good to create something again. It wasn’t music, but it was something. And it was giving him an outlet that he hadn’t even known that he needed. 

As he admired the word Bitchface with the blue and purple mandalas around it, trying to decide which other colour to add, Steve came back out wearing his pajama pants and a long sleeved shirt. His hair was still damp, sticking out in every possible direction as if he belonged in the nineties and had emptied an entire container of wax on his head. He shuffled onto the couch besides Bucky, pulling up his socked feet and pressed a kiss on Bucky’s neck while looking at the art. 

“That looks nice.” Steve commented. “I like the colour combination of that share of purple and blue.” Steve pointed at the two intertwining colours, then picked up the sheet of paper that Bucky had put beside the book to try out Steve’s colour pens on to judge just what shade they would turn out to be on paper. 

“Is that your professional, art critic opinion?” Bucky teased, putting down the pen and shifted back up further in the couch, resting against the back of it and pulled up his own bare feet. Steve kept looking at the paper, but he was smiling. 

“The art critic in me reserves the right to say anything until the piece of art is actually finished.” Steve smirked, put down the paper and looked at Bucky with such an endearing expression, then leant in for a kiss. “And at this rate, it’ll be done by the time I get in from work tomorrow.” Steve whispered, his lips barely leaving Bucky’s. Anya woke up on her end of the couch, saw the two men and meowed to make her presence known. She stretched, and then came up on Bucky’s lap to demand their attention and pushed the pair apart. 

“We’ll see about that.” Bucky commented, scratching Anya behind her ear and watched how she pressed her entire body weight against his hand. Her eyes fell shut and she began to sound like a lawn mower again. Steve chuckled a little bit, he had always been amused by Anya. 

“I like your pens though, they’re really nice. I didn’t think that it really mattered which pencils you used and all. I actually thought people were morons for buying pencils more expensive than a dollar.” Bucky admitted, nodding back over to his creation and the blue pen laying across it. Steve laughed. 

“Well, is a guitar from a toy store going to sound the same as a guitar that you buy from a music shop?” Steve asked with a wink. Bucky snorted and rolled his eyes in response. “Thought so.” 

“How was your run?” Bucky asked, letting Anya curl up on his lap and then reached out to toy with the hair in the nape of Steve’s neck, feeling how his fingertips moistened from the damp of it. Steve hummed in pleasure at that, and leant into the touch, all the way until he was resting against the back of the couch with a heavy sigh. 

“Fucking murder. Pietro he uh, he runs competitively, I don’t know if I told you about that. Anyway, he’s really fast, working his best to get into nationals, any day now he keeps saying. I consider myself as fit but he slayed me in twenty minutes and then proceeded to run for another half hour at an even faster pace than before. Sam so helpfully pointed out that his time even improved when I dropped out.” Steve huffed, and Bucky couldn’t help but giggle a little bit at the sight. 

“You are really annoyed aren’t you?” Bucky asked, tilting his head a little bit to the side. Steve pouted a little bit for dramatics, looked at Bucky and nodded. He only got another snort and an eyerol in response. “You don’t have to be the best at everything Stevie. Sometimes it’s okay to lose?” 

“I don’t like losing.” Steve huffed again, then rubbed his eyes. “I keep trying to tell myself that he’s twenty-one, and doesn’t practice anything else and I’m a leisury runner. Of course he’s going to kick my ass, he’s a freaking professional.” 

“You’re adorable when you’re digesting a loss.” Bucky mused, watching Steve and brought his now wet fingertips to his lips. He could smell the coconut on them from the shampoo that Steve had used. Bucky’s own shampoo. Somehow, he found himself falling in love with the idea of Steve smelling like him, even if it was just his hair. And he made a mental note to keep buying the same shampoo over and over now. If he could keep that smell on Steve then he would die as a happy man when the day came. And maybe, just maybe when the scent still clung to his pillows for when Steve decided to stay in his apartment one night, then Bucky could close his eyes and pretend that Steve was still beside him, sleeping. 

“Let’s change the subject.” Steve shifted in the couch again, turning so he’d be able to look at Bucky more properly with a smile. “The others have already given me enough shit about it this afternoon than I ever wanted to take. Pete’s calling me an old man.” 

“Alright, let’s talk about something else, my young handsome, fit man.” Bucky teased a little bit. Leaning in to give Steve a kiss to cheer him up a little bit. All he got was a light shove in his chest. Bucky broke out into a giggle fit and leant back against the couch again, watching him with all the love that he could muster and found that at that moment, Steve was absolutely and utterly perfect. 

“My friends, were dicks and kept pestering me about something else as well.” Steve then began. “They were wondering when they would get to meet you. Meet the family because I have none by blood anymore they said. And I told them I’d talk to you about it.” Steve’s question came out so easily that it contradicted with how nervous he looked. Bucky frowned a bit, and wondered why Steve had been nervous about asking that in the first place. 

“Meet your friends? Sure. Why not?” Bucky agreed with simply, shrugging with his shoulders. 

“Really?” Steve sounded surprised. Bucky nodded again and reached out for his glass of water on the table, taking a sip from it. “I’ll let them know then. I was thinking, usually when I hang out with them we just do, pizza, some board games. That sound good with you? We can do it maybe not this weekend, but next? Give the other some time to plan if they can make it?” 

“Board games sound fun. Like, monopoly or cards against humanity like you guys played on Christmas? Or more obscure things that A normal person wouldn’t have heard off?” Bucky asked curiously. He couldn’t remember the last time he had played a board game with anyone. He must still have lived with his parents then, he could distinctly remember playing clue with his sisters and arguing who the murderer was. Their father declaring loudly that the game was over because they couldn’t keep quiet. After that event Bucky couldn’t think of a single moment where he had sat down and played a game after that. 

“Something like that yeah. We play the usual games, whatever Thor drags along, he has a knack for finding really obscure but fun games. Though cards against humanity might be a good ice breaker, get them to realise you’re just as fucked up as we are.” Steve smirked a little bit. “I mean, you did tip me to use a card that made me win the round. For once maybe Tony might not win if it turns out it wasn’t just a lucky bet.”

“You know, I’ve never actually played that.” Bucky gently placed his hand underneath Anya and lifted her slightly, stretching out his legs and placed them over Steve’s before putting the cat back down. Steve placed his hand on Bucky’s calf. “But that sounds like a lot of fun actually. Yeah I’d like that. Go through the trial by fire and get approved by your family.” Bucky winked to Steve. “Do you want to meet my friends as well when we’re at it? And my one sister here in Brooklyn?” 

“If you want me to. Yeah I’d really like that.” Steve responded, perhaps a little bit too quickly again and to eager. But Bucky didn’t mind. Instead he just smiled to Steve and nodded. “I’ll organize something for after we’ve had the weekend with yours. And then, just for getting back at your friends for pestering you, we can have a moment where they all get together. A meet the parents thing.” 

Steve snorted and rolled his eyes. “Don’t even joke about it, they’ll see it that way. And they would insist on meeting your parents as the equivalent of mine.”

Bucky shook his head. “Well, if they ever make it down to Florida, then why the hell not. I think however, I’m going to do you a favor and not introduce you to my parents just yet.”

“But they know about me?” Steve asked carefully, reaching out to take Bucky’s hand and squeezed. 

“Of course they know about you.” Bucky responded, sensing that Steve had been nervous about the answer. “And my sisters do. Rebecca has been dying to meet you actually. My parents to but, I’m not doing that yet because they’ll just pressure you and do the whole hover parent thing and I don’t want that. I’m not ready for that.” Bucky leaned in, kissing Steve softly. “So let’s do it the right way, friends first, siblings, and then later, waaay later, parents.” 

“That sounds like a solid plan.” Steve smiled, looking absolutely adorable as he did. 

“Are you going to go running again tomorrow?” Bucky then asked, leaning back in the couch again and came to rest. Deciding that he’d continue on Bitchface tomorrow. The rapid way in which Steve shook his head made him laugh at the other, finding the reaction comical. 

“God no, I think I’m just coming straight home after school tomorrow and lay on the couch and die, I’ll probably be ridiculously stiff. Old man worthy, Bucky sweetheart. If I can’t get out of bed tomorrow morning. Be a dear and choose a lovely old man’s home and with nice nurses that won’t leave me in a tub for hours on end and promise to come and visit me.” 

“So dramatic.” Bucky teased. “I promise.” 

“You got any plans for tomorrow?” Steve asked, tilting his head so he could look to Bucky. Bucky threw his eyes up to the ceiling and pouted a little bit. 

“I think I’m going to go and get a haircut.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took so much longer than usual with the posting of this chapter. Life has been unexpecting with a collision of unexpected work events, some health issues and general life changes that sucked the muse out of me for a little bit. I'm working on regaining it, and hopefully I'll be back to a regular posting schedule for this! In the next chapter we'll have Bucky meeting Steve's friends properly, and some new game rules.


End file.
